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I
ORDER is a lovely thing; | |
| On disarray it lays its wing, | |
| Teaching simplicity to sing. | |
| It has a meek and lowly grace, | |
| Quiet as a nun’s face. | 5 |
| Lo—I will have thee in this place! | |
| Tranquil well of deep delight, | |
| Transparent as the water, bright— | |
| All things that shine through thee appear | |
| As stones through water, sweetly clear. | 10 |
| Thou clarity, | |
| That with angelic charity | |
| Revealest beauty where thou art, | |
| Spread thyself like a clean pool. | |
| Then all the things that in thee are | 15 |
| Shall seem more spiritual and fair, | |
| Reflections from serener air— | |
| Sunken shapes of many a star | |
| In the high heavens set afar. | |
| |
II
Ye stolid, homely, visible things, | 20 |
| Above you all brood glorious wings | |
| Of your deep entities, set high, | |
| Like slow moons in a hidden sky. | |
| But you, their likenesses, are spent | |
| Upon another element. | 25 |
| Truly ye are but seemings— | |
| The shadowy cast-off gleamings | |
| Of bright solidities. Ye seem | |
| Soft as water, vague as dream; | |
| Image, cast in a shifting stream. | 30 |
| |
III
What are ye? | |
| I know not. | |
| Brazen pan and iron pot, | |
| Yellow brick and grey flag-stone | |
| That my feet have trod upon— | 35 |
| Ye seem to me | |
| Vessels of bright mystery. | |
| For ye do bear a shape, and so | |
| Though ye were made by man, I know | |
| An inner Spirit also made | 40 |
| And ye his breathings have obeyed. | |
| |
IV
Shape the strong and awful Spirit, | |
| Laid his ancient hand on you. | |
| He waste chaos doth inherit; | |
| He can alter and subdue. | 45 |
| Verily, he doth lift up | |
| Matter, like a sacred cup. | |
| Into deep substance he reached, and lo | |
| Where ye were not, ye were; and so | |
| Out of useless nothing, ye | 50 |
| Groaned and laughed and came to be. | |
| And I use you, as I can, | |
| Wonderful uses, made for man, | |
| Iron pot and brazen pan. | |
| |
V
What are ye? | 55 |
| I know not; | |
| Nor what I really do | |
| When I move and govern you. | |
| There is no small work unto God. | |
| He requires of us greatness; | 60 |
| Of his least creature | |
| A high angelic nature, | |
| Stature superb and bright completeness. | |
| He sets to us no humble duty. | |
| Each act that he would have us do | 65 |
| Is haloed round with strangest beauty. | |
| Terrific deeds and cosmic tasks | |
| Of his plainest child he asks. | |
| When I polish the brazen pan | |
| I hear a creature laugh afar | 70 |
| In the gardens of a star, | |
| And from his burning presence run | |
| Flaming wheels of many a sun. | |
| Whoever makes a thing more bright, | |
| He is an angel of all light. | 75 |
| When I cleanse this earthen floor | |
| My spirit leaps to see | |
| Bright garments trailing over it. | |
| Wonderful lustres cover it, | |
| A cleanness made by me. | 80 |
| Purger of all men’s thoughts and ways, | |
| With labor do I sound Thy praise, | |
| My work is done for Thee. | |
| Whoever makes a thing more bright, | |
| He is an angel of all light. | 85 |
| Therefore let me spread abroad | |
| The beautiful cleanness of my God. | |
| |
VI
One time in the cool of dawn | |
| Angels came and worked with me. | |
| The air was soft with many a wing. | 90 |
| They laughed amid my solitude | |
| And cast bright looks on everything. | |
| Sweetly of me did they ask | |
| That they might do my common task. | |
| And all were beautiful—but one | 95 |
| With garments whiter than the sun | |
| Had such a face | |
| Of deep, remembered grace, | |
| That when I saw I cried—“Thou art | |
| The great Blood-Brother of my heart. | 100 |
| Where have I seen thee?”—And he said, | |
| “When we are dancing ’round God’s throne, | |
| How often thou art there. | |
| Beauties from thy hands have flown | |
| Like white doves wheeling in mid-air. | 105 |
| Nay—thy soul remembers not? | |
| Work on, and cleanse thy iron pot.” | |
| |
VII
What are we? I know not. | |
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