THE DROP OF DEW. 
351 
Because so long divided from the sphere, 
Restless it rolls, and insecure, 
Trembling lest it grow impure ; 
Till the warm sun pities its pain, 
And to the skies exhales it back again 
So the soul, that drops that ray, 
Of the clear fountain of eternal day, 
Could i+ within the human flower be seen, 
Remembering still its former height, 
Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green j 
And, recollecting its own light, 
Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express 
The greater heaven in a heaven less. 
In how coy a figure wound, 
Every way it turns away! 
So, the world excluding round, 
Yet receiving in the day : 
Dark beneath, but bright above ; 
Here disdaining, there in love. 
How loose and easy hence to go. 
How girt and ready to ascend ! 
Moving but on a point below, 
Tt all about does upward bend. 
Such did the manna’s sacred dew distil, 
White and entire, although congealed and chill; 
Congealed on earth ; but does, dissolving, tud 
Into the glories of the almighty sun. 
/ 
