(a trifle)

One breath he draws from this our human world,
The second, from the world of which our world
A crisp white morning lily is.

He takes one step in our countries and takes the next
In fairyplaces mong anemones of which no text
Compells the slightest part.

He builds a human work, a chair or desk,
And suddenly above our heads in wondrous like
A cloud where angels sit and write.

One eye of his is blue and other one is green.
Half what he sees is seen, the other half unseen.
But you should hear him sing.