One looked, and having looked he turned away
And moved again among the petty men
That peopled his small world. On field or fen
He caught no beauty, yet that perfect day
Earth's glory was too fair for tongue to say
Or pen to intimate; it was as when
One prays a memory may be spared, and then
Enjoins his heart to treasure it alway.
Yet not in vain God smiled. Another came
And quite forgot to go; he drank, was filled;
Stirred were the sleeping echoes, roused by Soul!
Tho' from without the view remained the same,
Mind's ever-ready impress had but stilled
The mortal sense, and glimpsed Love's wondrous
whole.
