So much to me is imminent:
To leave Revolt that is my tent,
And Failure, chosen for my bride,

And upwards and abroad be gone
Ere yet Creation marcheSon
Obedient, jocund, glorified;

And, last of things afoot, to know
How to be free is still to go
With glad concession, grave accord,

Nor longer, bond and imbecile
Stand out against the gradual Will,
The guessed Fall in! of God the Lord.