The soul — some say — wisely lie in the eye —
Though seem that to me a choice of mistake —
When heavy rains pour does not flooding take
With but one swift sweep — the weeping soul — by
Way of rapid, river, tide — but to cry —
Ever forsaken... Would not better make
Home in the heart — so to sail Life’s Own Lake...
...Ah... Secure neither that: broken-hearts die.
Then not in the eye — then not in the heart —
Where-ever soul lie — in Province of God:
Who Know of If-Start — Who Know of If-End...
— Certainly seems when we die soul depart:
Released then to fly; bound-not here to plod:
...Descend ...yesterday... tomorrow... ...ascend...