light
  Of earliest youth pierced through and through with all
  Keen knowledges of low-embowed eld)
  Upheld, and ever hold aloft the cloud
  Which droops low hung on either gate of life,
  Both birth and death; he in the centre fixed,
  Saw far on each side through the grated gates
  Most pale and clear and lovely distances. 
  He often lying broad awake, and yet
  Remaining from the body, and apart
  In intellect and power and will, hath heard
  Time flowing in the middle of the night,
  And all things creeping to a day of doom. 
  How could ye know him?  Ye were yet within
  The narrower circle; he had well nigh reached
  The last, with which a region of white flame,
  Pure without heat, into a larger air
  Upburning, and an ether of black hue,
  Investeth and ingirds all other lives.

VIII

=The Grasshopper=

  I

  Voice of the summerwind,
      Joy of the summerplain,
      Life of the summerhours,
    Carol clearly, bound along. 
      No Tithon thou as poets feign
  (Shame fall ’em they are deaf and blind)
    But an insect lithe and strong,
      Bowing the seeded summerflowers. 
  Prove their falsehood and thy quarrel,
      Vaulting on thine airy feet. 
  Clap thy shielded sides and carol,
      Carol clearly, chirrup sweet
  Thou art a mailed warrior in youth and strength complete;
      Armed cap-a-pie,
      Full fair to see;
        Unknowing fear,
      Undreading loss,
        A gallant cavalier
  Sans peur et sans reproche,
      In sunlight and in shadow,
      The Bayard of the meadow.

  II

  I would dwell with thee,
      Merry grasshopper,
  Thou art so glad and free,
      And as light as air;
  Thou hast no sorrow or tears,
  Thou hast no compt of years,
  No withered immortality,
  But a short youth sunny and free. 
  Carol clearly, bound along,
      Soon thy joy is over,
  A summer of loud song,
      And slumbers in the clover. 
      What hast thou to do with evil
      In thine hour of love and revel,
      In thy heat of summerpride,
      Pushing the thick roots aside
      Of the singing flowered grasses,
      That brush thee with their silken tresses? 
  What hast thou to do with evil,
  Shooting, singing, ever springing
      In and out the emerald glooms,
  Ever leaping, ever singing,
      Lighting on the golden blooms?

IX

=Love, Pride and Forgetfulness=

  Ere yet my heart was sweet Love’s tomb,
  Love laboured honey busily. 
  I was the hive and Love the bee,
  My heart the honey-comb. 
  One very dark and chilly night
  Pride came beneath and held a light.