Refashioned in still nights of starry dews:
But one, the while, unseen of me,
Watched my unconscious hand, approving:
And I was set, next morning,
Among the craftsmen, who so deftly limned
The hunts and battles for the palace walls.
And, happily, with them I lived
A life of loving labour, for each line
Flowed from the knowledge of my heart:
I drew the startled ostrich