What heart could have thought you?--
Past our devisal
(O filigree petal!)
Fashioned so purely,
Fragilely, surely,
From what Paradisal
Imagineless metal,
Too costly for cost?
Who hammered you, wrought you,
From argentine vapour?--
"God was my shaper.
Passing surmisal,
He hammered, He wrought me,
From curled silver vapour,
To lust of His mind:--
Thou couldst not have thought me!
So purely, so palely,
Tinily, surely,
Mightily, frailly,
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Insculped and embossed,
With His hammer of wind,
And His graver of frost."
_Francis Thompson._