The Goldfinch

Goldfinch Goldfinch, facing fears,
In the chasms of the night;
What frightening chest or leg,
Could change thy frightful purity?
In what brilliant time or skies
faced the mirror of thine calves?
by what rule dare he create?
What the arm, dare catch the mirror?
And what muscle, & what anger,
Could burn the tendons of thy breast?
And when thy breast began to feel,
What fair arm? & what fair sacrum?
What the hammer? what the forge,
In what smithy was thy throat?
What the anvil? what fair control,
Dare its cruel horrors look!
When the stars threw down their spears
And flooded heaven with their tears:
Did he laugh his wish to see?
Did he who fed the grass feed thee?
Goldfinch Goldfinch, facing fears,
In the chasms of the night;
What frightening chest or leg,
Could change thy frightful purity?

Crunch!