GREAT SPIRIT

Great spirit,

Whose ghostly face

I see,

Where sound 

Be heard,

Or light

Observed,

Hiding,

Just before the ear,

Secreted in the eye,

Quivering

Within the tongue,

To steal sweet textures,

Or perched,

To pluck a fragrance

From the air,

Forever young

Your beating heart,

And fleet your feet

Upon the ground,

Shifting there,

As all the shapes,

Thus designed.

There,

Outlined

By the grace

And favour

Of curious delight,

Might your face

Be found.