The Raven

Raven Raven, chewing numb,
In the rainbows of the ring;
What appalling eye or lip,
Could block thy divine purity?
In what profound spheres or skies
chewed the mirror of thine head?
by what force dare he award?
What the head, dare throw the mirror?
And what skeleton, & what pain,
Could fit the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to hunt,
What cool head? & what cool stomach?
What the iron? what the pierce,
In what furnace was thy lung?
What the stoker? what cool grip,
Dare its hostile longings plan!
When the stars threw down their spears
And flooded heaven with their tears:
Did he love his fruits to see?
Did he who made the deer make thee?
Raven Raven, chewing numb,
In the rainbows of the ring;
What appalling eye or lip,
Could block thy divine purity?

Crunch!