He looks beyond the veils of night and day; <br />He hearkens in the silence, and has heard <br />The ancient woods by dryad singing stirred, <br />To mortal ears how thin and far away. <br />With what gross laughter yet he turns to play <br />With slaves of vice and virtue and the herd <br />Of flopping little Calibans, that gird <br />At muddy boots and call them feet of clay. <br />Here you may loaf the valley or breast the hill, <br />Dive deep for pearl or sink your shaft for gold, <br />Or watch Love, laughing, flit in the summer nights. <br />Sit by the mud and sniff it as you will, <br />If you but lift your eyes an inch, behold <br />The moving tide and broken glimmer of lights.<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/microcosmography/
