We Still May Hope

In Heaven every tree is more than wood.
The other world holds life unknown to us;
The dark is held no more beneath a hood
Of what the thoughtful say defies lust.

In Heaven grow the kind and gracious lives
Of men's sure knowledge that we are not alone.
The world we see today our love deprives
Its right by God far greater to be grown.

The birds may sing in heaven sure enchantment,
Yet that spell is more a sign that life with us
Is never more than drab except when lent
The power to no more increase Will's truss.

Why was Will thought ever to be constraint?
Is it not what was given in long agos
To let men know that through Hell's taint
We'll know that more delight through Heaven flows?