Let the sounds but reach thy heart, Straight thyself magician art; Walkest open-eyed through earth; Seest wonders in their birth, Whence they come and whither go; Thou thyself exalted so, Nature's consciousness, whereby On herself she turns her eye. Only heed thou worship God; Else thou stalkest on thy sod, Puppet-god of picture-world, For thy foolish gaze unfurled; Mirror-thing of things below thee. Thy own self can never know thee; Not a high and holy actor; A reflector, and refractor; Helpless in thy gift of light, Self-consuming into night. Lasting yet the roseate glory! I must hasten with my story Of the little room's true features, Seldom seen by mortal creatures; Lest my prophet-vision fading Leave me in the darkness wading. What are those upon the wall, Ranged in rows symmetrical? They are books, an owl would say; But the owl's night is the day: Of these too, if you have patience, I can give you revelations: Through the walls of Time and Sight, Doors they are to the Infinite; Through the limits that embrace us, Openings to the eternal spaces, Round us all the noisy day, Full of silences alway; Round us all the darksome night, Ever full of awful light: And, though closed, may still remind us There is mystery behind us. That, my friend? Now, it is curious, You should hit upon the spurious! 'Tis a blind, a painted door: Knock at it for evermore, Never vision it affords But its panelled gilded boards; Behind it lieth nought at all, But the limy, webby wall. Oh no, not a painted block-- Not the less a printed mock; A book, 'tis true; no whit the more A revealing out-going door. There are two or three such books For a while in others' nooks; Where they should no longer be, But for reasons known to me. Do not open that one though. It is real; but if you go Careless to it, as to dance, You'll see nothing for your glance; Blankness, deafness, blindness, dumbness, Soon will stare you to a numbness. No, my friend; it is not wise To open doors into the skies, As into a little study, Where a feeble brain grows muddy. Wait till night, and you shall be Left alone with mystery; Light this lamp's white softened ray, (Another wonder by the way,) Then with humble faith and prayer, Ope the door with patient care: Yours be calmness then, and strength For the sight you see at length.