Louis Untermeyer

How Much of Godhood

How much of Godhood did it take—
   What purging epochs had to pass,
Ere I was fit for leaf and lake
   And worthy of the patient grass?
 
What mighty travails must have been,
   What ages must have moulded me,
Ere I was raised and made akin
   To dawn, the daisy and the sea.
 
In what great struggles was I felled,
   In what old lives I labored long,
Ere I was given a world that held
   A meadow, butterflies and Song?
 
But oh, what cleansings and what fears,
   What countless raisings from the dead,
Ere I could see Her, touched with tears,
   Pillow the little weary head.
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