No More Learning

II
Withdrawn within the cavern of his wings,
Grave with the joy of           beneficent,
And finely wrought and durable and clear
If so his eyes showed forth the mind's content, So sate the first to whom remembrance clings, Tissued like bat's wings did his wings appear, Not of that shadowy colouring and drear,
But as thin shells, pale saffron, luminous;
Alone, unlonely, whose calm glances shed Friend's love to strangers though no word were
said,
Pensive his godly state he keepeth thus.