Page:Poems and lyrics of the joy of earth.djvu/34

Rh 'Tis a shuttle weaving swift. Look with spirit past the sense, Spirit shines in permanence. That is She, the view of whom Is the dust within the tomb, Is the inner blush above, Look to loathe, or look to love; Think her Lump, or know her Flame; Dread her scourge, or read her aim; Shoot your hungers from their nerve; Or, in her example, serve. Some have found her sitting grave; Laughing, some; or, browed with sweat, Hurling dust of fool and knave In a hissing smithy's jet. More it were not well to speak; Burn to see, you need but seek. Once beheld she gives the key Airing every doorway, she.