With warm desire to please the captious ones,
Whose fervency the finished fabric suns,
With ardent conjurations she besought
The thronging sprites, that feed the loom of thought,
To gather shining woof, from climes afar—
From lands where all things bright and wondrous are—
To seek the dame whose tireless hand doth hold
The distaff yielding threads of fine spun gold,
And bring the gathered treasures in to her,
All sweet with far-fetched frankincense and myrrh:
Instead of quest in distant lands for woof
From near they brought, and with it sharp reproof.
“The glow and flame of thy desire
Is lit by an unholy fire.
We bring thee shreds for needs of life
With which its ways are ever rife;
Weave these as we shall bring them in
(None leads with Lotus-charm to sin)
And when the web falls from thy care,
Who needs takes self-apportioned share.
If one is girt by it for storm,
Or one lone home, made glad and warm—
If one bruised heart finds through it balm,
One groping soul, up-lifting psalm,
Then, thank thy God that thou hast wrought
The humble shreds that we have brought.”