V

2 0 00

V

Cleaning the Windows

Wash the window; rub it dry;

Make the ray-door clean and bright:

He who lords it in the sky

Loves on cottage floors to light!

Looking over sea and beck,

Mountain-forest, orchard-bloom,

He can spy the smallest speck

Anywhere about the room!

See how bright his torch is blazing

In the heart of mother’s store!

Strange! I never saw him gazing

So into that press before!

Ah, I see!⁠—the wooden pane

In the window, dull and dead,

Father called its loss a gain,

And a glass one put instead!

What a difference it makes!

How it melts the filmy gloom!

What a little more it takes

Much to brighten up a room!

There I spy a dusty streak!

There a corner not quite clean!

There a cobweb! There the sneak

Of a spider, watching keen!

Lord of suns, and eyes that see,

Shine into me, see and show;

Leave no darksome spot in me

Where thou dost not shining go.

Fill my spirit full of eyes,

Doors of light in every part;

Open windows to the skies

That no moth corrupt my heart.