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We see—Comparatively—
The Thing so towering high
We could not grasp its segment
Unaided—Yesterday

This Morning's finer Verdict—
Makes scarcely worth the toil—
A furrow—Our Cordillera—
Our Apennine—a Knoll—

Perhaps 'tis kindly—done us—
The Anguish—and the loss
The wrenching—for His Firmament
The Thing belonged to us—

To spare these Striding Spirits
Some Morning of Chagrin—
The waking in a Gnat's—embrace
Our Giants—further on—