The Spirit of Wisdom

I am the Eternal Architect;
    My compass swept the mighty ring
    Round which the waltzing planets swing
Whereby the darkened sky is decked;
And with its shorter curves I plough
    The circles of a shimmering pool,
    Amid the woodland shadows cool,
Where drops an acorn from its bough.

I stretched the never-ending chords
    That fathom the supreme abyss, –
    The star-lyre of the Immensities
Struck grandly to the Lord of lords!
And deftly by my rule are laid
    The geometric spider’s bars,
    That thread the glittering dewlike stars,
By morning’s level light betrayed.

I sunk the gloomy gulfs of space
    Down which the stellar maelstrom whirls,
    That for its seething foam-crest hurls
The pallid nebulæ in heaven’s face.
The tunnels winding through the dark
    From sheaf to sheaf of corn, I drew
    To make the mining mole’s work true,
Where burns his bead eyes’ tiny spark.

By my command the host deploys
    Of boundless suns in boundless deeps,
    And only full allegiance keeps
Their golden ranks in equipoise.
I lend the bees to their fervid soul
    To guide them in their arrowy flight,
    To build their crystal cells aright,
And shape their empire’s wise control.

When comets wander down the deeps
    I call them to their sure return;
    In swarms the fire-plumed meteors burn
Along the paths my fiat sweeps;
The brant’s sky-cleaving wedge I form;
    I teach the sea-bird’s little brain
    What time the spring shall come again,
And lead him through the wintry storm.

Ere the foundations of the sun
    Where laid in everlasting fire,
    I wrought with Life’s Eternal Sire,
And served wherever life begun.
The gauzy insect of an hour,
    I moulded by my subtlest skill,
    That shapes your human heart and will
With all eternity for dower.

The fire-mist of primeval time
    My breath condensed like summer rain,
    Swept on as by a hurricane,
Each drop a burning world sublime.
My lightest whisper in the vale
    Transforms the spectral river-mist
    To diamond, pearl, and amethyst,
In globéd constellations pale.

Around the Everlasting Throne
    Thick darkness winds an ebon shroud;
    I lift, a space, that awful cloud,
And make the inner glory known.
Behind the curtains of the dark
    My watch-lamps burn to guard and guide,
    In heaven, Orion’s blazing pride,
On earth, the glow-worm’s tiny spark.

The seraphs of divinest song
    Take inspiration from my lyre;
    I am the martyr’s inward fire
That blunts the faggot-flames of wrong.
The humblest soul, who will not doubt,
    When clouds let down their leaden pall,
    But sees the clear sky over all,
My white arms fold him round about.

The utmost heavens are not too wide
    For my grand altar, nor too small
    The lowliest faithful heart of all
Whose love shall in my Law abide.
From least to greatest all unfold
    As subjects of that rigid Law,
    The foolish feel my lion’s-claw,
The wise my virgin smile behold.