 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
THE PRISM.
Who turned thee from thy path, and made thee showThy Jacob's-coat of many colours, Light!
Celestial Harlequin, disguised in white,
And yield thy secret whêr thou wouldst or no;
His spell a bit of glass shaped so and so!
He drew no circle; used no magic rite,
No Spirits called but the One Infinite
Of Knowledge, to which all submission owe!
No glass but one shaped so that sprite had shown;
No eye but his the subtle elf had seen;
And in such different shapes for one same known:
To most he a stage-harlequin had been,
A tricksome sprite; and had glass ne'er been blown,
He would have tricked e'en Newton's eye, I ween!
| Stones from The Quarry | |