No answering ecstasy
Is roused in us by earth or sea or sky.
Who will affirm this brave display is real,
When on a radiant morn the doom is sent
That rends our world asunder, and we feel
The dear, familiar earth, the firmament,
All forms that meet the eye,
An insubstantial, vacant mockery?
A cobweb world of thin, transparent shapes,
Though limp as silk, the magic woof proves wrought