Classic Poem

Could you bid an acorn
When in earth it heaves
On Time's backward wing be borne
To forgotten leaves:
Could you quiet Noah's Flood
To an essence rare,
Or bid the roaring wind
Confine in his lair:

Could round iron shell
When the spark was in it
Hold gun-powder so well
That it never split:
Had you reins for the sun,
And curb, and spur,
Held you God in a net
So He might not stir:

Then might you take this thing,
Then strangle it, kill:
By weighing, considering,
Conform it to will:
As man denied his Christ
Deny it, mock, betray —
But being Seed, Wind, God,
It bears all away.