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But there in some unearthly way
He wrought, and, with an inner spell,
Miraculously did array
That house of clay.
The very walls were in some sort
Made beautiful, with many a fresque
Or carven filigree of Thought,
Now seen a clear and statuesque
Accomplishment of dreams—now sought
Through many a lovely arabesque
And metaphor, that seemed to sport
With what it taught.
Most bright and marvellously fair
Those things did seem to all mankind;
And some indeed, with no cold stare
Beholding them, could lift their mind
Through sweet transfigurement to share
Their inward light: the rest were blind,
And wondered much, yet had small care
Whence such things were.
