| Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows | flaunt forth, then chevy on an air- | |
| Built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs | they throng; they glitter in marches. | |
| Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, | wherever an elm arches, | |
| Shivelights and shadowtackle ín long | lashes lace, lance, and pair. | |
| Delightfully the bright wind boisterous | ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare | 5 |
| Of yestertempest's creases; | in pool and rut peel parches | |
| Squandering ooze to squeezed | dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches | |
| Squadroned masks and manmarks | treadmire toil there | |
| Footfretted in it. Million-fuelèd, | nature's bonfire burns on. | |
| But quench her bonniest, dearest | to her, her clearest-selvèd spark | 10 |
| Man, how fast his firedint, | his mark on mind, is gone! | |
| Both are in an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark | |
| Drowned. O pity and indig | nation! Manshape, that shone | |
| Sheer off, disseveral, a star, | death blots black out; nor mark | |
| Is any of him at all so stark | 15 |
| But vastness blurs and time | beats level. Enough! the Resurrection, | |
| A heart's-clarion! Away grief's gasping, | joyless days, dejection. | |
| Across my foundering deck shone | |
| A beacon, an eternal beam. | Flesh fade, and mortal trash | |
| Fall to the residuary worm; | world's wildfire, leave but ash: | 20 |
| In a flash, at a trumpet crash, | |
| I am all at once what Christ is, | since he was what I am, and | |
| This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, | patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, | |
| Is immortal diamond. | |
