It is difficult for a person such as I
To work his way into that spinster mind .
I've read your verse -- often with thoughts unkind
And unable to see through your particular eye .

Yet re-reading and re-reading I've come to see
that though you lived life as a near recluse
you saw quite clearly what others would refuse :
and any misunderstanding seems down to me .

What then , I ask myself , can I ever do
to help that narrow fellow in the grass
bring swiftly my own epiphany to pass
and see your world as clearly as do you ?

I am denied . You are hidden away too well.
Not just by your own choosing, though that's true
but by others' choices , those coming after you
concealing your vision, pre-empting what you tell .

Your alabaster vault won't open to the skies
though many have tried with an uncertain key:
those worlds still scoop their arcs above the likes of me,
indifferent to our stolidly earth drawn eyes .

Grant then your editors this one concession.
You , unknown to them , were before your time.
They did their best , but chained by restraints of rhyme
and older rhythms , denied you your own expression .