As hidden in thy chamber lowest
As in the sky the lark,
Thou, mystic thing, on working goest
Without the poorest spark,
- And
- yet light's garment round me throwest, Who else, as thou, were dark.
With body ever clothing me,
Thou mak'st me child of light;
I look, and, Lo, the earth and sea,
The sky's rejoicing height,
A woven glory, globed by thee,
Unknowing of thy might!
- And
- when thy darkling labours fail, And thy shuttle moveless lies,
My world will drop, like untied veil
From before a lady's eyes;
- Or,
- all night read, a finished tale That in the morning dies.