Classic Poem

Everything that I can spy
Through the circle of my eye;

Everything that I can see
Has been woven out of me!

I packed the sun with fire, I threw
Gold of morn, of noon and eve.

In the deeps and steeps of blue!
And all else that I perceive,

Sun and sea and mountain high,
Are made, are moulded by my eye!

Closing it, I yet shall find,
All that is is in the mind.