Was it sudden ease, or the sudden cost, That made us most feel we were not all lost, That step and step had still some place to go, That all the world wasn't but wilderment of snow? For my part, I did not gauge the cost (Or rounded figures down at worst or most). I had no interest in what interest others took. For my sole self my dual eyes do look. I see the thing itself as it appears to be, Visible from somewhere on vague reprieve; Then I look where eyes look eyes-closed And seem to hunt up a memory of shape at most That rises toward some overwhelming feeling, Rising, rising, as all else fades out failing-- Rising to what I always call my meaning.