The volatile world of matter flows
Over our senses, jarringly, confusedly,
Or sweetly, gently; its melodies transpose
Incessantly, scarcely do we sense them flee
But back they flood in anguished throes –
Or coupled in an unheard harmony!
Our thoughts, upon an immaterial stream,
Rush though our inner wildernesses,
Placid, foaming, dark, or swift agleam,
From one now fluently the next fluoresces:
One single, grand, interminable theme
Which to its close-veiled end progresses.
The one, downward and turbidly descending,
The other striving upward to the sheer
And secret spring of its own rare depending;
They meet in us over some unmapped frontier
Where light is but a vague and spectral blending;
Two several-purposed worlds within one sphere.
Here – just before the day’s first effulging;
Here – inferior airs translate to aether;
Here – where a thought is first divulging,
Causing a power in the world to stir:
Here – by some grace’s awesome will indulging,
Reason bids the unforeseen occur!
Here is the poet’s paradise, the wide
And open garden of the mind’s delight,
Fruited to never sate nor to subside;
But fail you will to breach it with your sight;
It is a cloistered place, forever denied
To those who clasp the earthen over tight.
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