I shall insistently and proudly read
Into the mud of things a mudless creed,
Out of mud fashioning a palace so
Clamant with beauty and superb with snow,
That in this glory shall men's eyes be blurred,
Stars be made slaves to this most potent Word.
I in thick mud shall hear swift stars proclaim
The intolerable splendour of the Name.
I in a beetle's nerves shall search and find
The processes of the chaos-cleaving mind,
On my clock's second-fingers I shall see
The tidal journeyings of Eternity.