Look at the stars! look, look up the skies! 
      O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! 
      The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!  
 Down in dim woods the diamond delves! the elves’ eyes!  
 The grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies! 
      Wind-beat whitebeam! airy abeles set on a flare! 
      Flake-doves sent floating forth at a farmyard scare!— 
 Ah well! it is a purchase, all is a prize. 
  
 Buy then! bid then!—What?—Prayer, patience, alms, vows.  
 Look, look: a May-mess, like on orchard boughs!