like a grest ring of pure and endless light,
all calm, as it was bright,
and round beneath it, time, in hours, days, years,
driven by the spheres,
like a vast shadow moved, in which the word
and all her train were hurled.
There is in god, some say,
a deep but dazzling darkness: as men here
say it is late and dusky, because they
see not all clear.
O for that night, where I in him
might live invisible and dim!
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