perplexing sheaf, the Bible,
On which are built the longing naves,
Empires dome and seamark steeple
Out of the woods unbreaking waves,
Engraves fat tombs, and stones that speak
Lowly of ones who sleep; a book
Whose leaves are turned to flint, and saint-
Strewn glass, to marble, ragged oak
And gold, to plaster, cloth and paint,
Which vows all craft shall be shaken
To dust when these dead awaken.
It is a reed sharp and unpliant
As iron; stark peak, fertile as our graves;
A word sprung green among the thorns of print.