All Great things are fallen down
Or held on high by blessed pins -
As blossom to branch
Or branch to tree.
A spike; a spear; a thorn for thee.
And I: the one who weeps awake
Or turns, unpinned, in my sleep -
For thoughts of thunder, lightning, and rain
Or night mares rode again.
Sixteen hooves as cannons sound.
They shake the towers to the ground;
And shake the keys;
And shake the chains;
And answer lightning;
And answer rain.
But on high the pins still hold
Through blistering heat;
Through blasting cold;
And onward through the end of Time.
Horse repelled.
Rider felled.
Angels light from tree to cloud.
Fallen I, upon my knee.
Far less than Angel.
Far less than tree.
Far less than you is bowed me.
Tired, cold, and scared I sing;
All in hope of Angels' wing:
The downy comfort, warmth, and hope.
O pul the pins!
Let come again
All Great Things
Upon the Earth.
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