God , who from father Adam stole a rib
Sleeping, and left him richer by the loss,
Taught her to range the land and sea across
And as she skips the radiant earth to crib.

A perfume here, and there a beam of light,
Flying to take a little tax in haste
Of prodigal Paradises flower'd to waste,
And trim the unequal scales of joy aright.

To some great London squatting foul and glum,
Beside a stream debauched, in purblind skies,
She comes at night to give the heaven his eyes
And drive a golden highway down the slum.

A touch like dew upon a burning tongue!
On wrinkled brows a breath, a stroking beam!
A nameless change to make the pavement seem
Less like a tombstone on the dead world flung!

Under the planes by terraced river-banks,
And in the garden by the city gate,
In lovers' ears she murmurs early and late,
Happy to take their happiness for thanks.

Childhood revives in tired children's faces;
Sunlight beyond the hours of labour leaves
A time to live; between the holiday eves
And eager morns a thread of midnight races.

Are human hearts the poorer for a tear
Shed, or the richer for a laugh unlaughed?
Or gold that to the goldsmith's handicraft
Renders the lump and lets the form appear?

Her shimmering island treasuries of balms
Meet her with lights and odours undiminished,
Whispering cornfields hail the progress finished,
Deep woods more tranquil for the willing alms.