is called to hunt down God, its shy reserve called to storm heaven.

In the poem "The Night" (180), it says:

Infinite torment,
That you hunted down God
Gentle spirit.
Sighing in the cataract,
In the waving fir trees.

The flaming rapture of this storm and hunt does not tear "the steep-walled fortress" down; it does not lay the quarry low, but lets it arise to behold the sights of heaven whose pure coolness veils the Divine. The singing reflection of such wandering belongs to the brow of a head marked by consummate pain. The poem "The Night" therefore closes with the lines:

A petrified head
Storms heaven.

Correspondingly, the end of the poem "The Heart" (172) runs:

The steep-walled fortress.
O heart
Shimmering away into snowy coolness.

In fact, the triadic harmony of the three late poems "The Heart," "The Storm," and "The Night" is so subtly tuned to One and the Same singing of apartness that the discussion of the poetic work here attempted is further prompted simply to leave those three poems to resound in their song without intruding an elucidation.

Wandering in apartness, beholding the sights of the invisible, and consummate pain—they belong together. The patient one submits to pain's sweep. He alone is able to follow the return into the primal earliness of the generation whose fate is preserved in an old album in which the poet inscribes the following stanza called "In an Old Album" (51):

Humbly the patient one bows to the pain
Ringing with music and with soft madness.
Look! the twilight appears.