When Wilt Thou Wake, O Mother, Wake And See - As One Who, Held In Trance, Has Laboured Long By Vacant Rote And Prepossession Strong - The Coils That Thou Hast Wrought Unwittingly; Wherein Have Place, Unrealized By Thee, Fair Growths, Foul Cankers, Right Enmeshed With Wrong, Strange Orchestras Of Victim-Shriek And Song, And Curious Blends Of Ache And Ecstasy? - Should That Morn Come, And Show Thy Opened Eyes All That Life'S Palpitating Tissues Feel, How Wilt Thou Bear Thyself In Thy Surprise? - Wilt Thou Destroy, In One Wild Shock Of Shame, Thy Whole High Heaving Firmamental Frame, Or Patiently Adjust, Amend, And Heal?