Why art Thou awful to our eyes, and sweet?
Cherished as love, and slaying with a touch?
Why in Thee do the known and unknown meet?
Why swift and tender, strong and delicate?
Simple as truth, yet manifold in might?
Why does one love Thee, and another hate?
Why cleave my words to the portals of my speech
When I a goodly matter would indite?
Why mounts my thought of Thee beyond my reach?
—In vain to follow Thee, I Thee beseech,
For God is light.
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