Lo！ from quiet skies

　　In through the window my Lord the Sun！

　　And my eyes

　　Were dazzled and drunk with the misty¹ gold，

　　The golden glory that drowned and crowned me

　　Eddied² and swayed through the room . . .

　　Around me，

　　To left and to right，

　　Hunched³ figures and old，

　　Dull blear-eyed scribbling⁴ fools， grew fair，

　　Ringed round and haloed with holy light.

　　Flame lit on their hair，

　　And their burning eyes grew young and wise，

　　Each as a God， or King of kings，

　　White-robed and bright

　　（Still scribbling all）；

　　And a full tumultuous murmur⁵ of wings

　　Grew through the hall；

　　And I knew the white undying Fire，

　　And， through open portals，

　　Gyre on gyre，

　　Archangels and angels， adoring， bowing，

　　And a Face unshaded . . .

　　Till the light faded；

　　And they were but fools again， fools unknowing，

　　Still scribbling， blear-eyed and stolid⁶ immortals⁷.