THE VESTURE OF THE SOUL

I pitied one whose tattered dress

Was patched, and stained with dust and rain;

He smiled on me; I could not guess

The viewless spirit's wide domain.

He said,‘ The royal robe I wear

Trails all along the fields of light:

Its silent blue and silver bear

For gems the starry dust of night.’

‘ The breath of joy unceasingly

Waves to and fro its folds starlit,

And far beyond earth's misery

I live and breathe the joy of it.’