When we stand on the tops of Things-
And like the Trees, look down-
The smoke all cleared away from it-
And Mirrors on the scene-

Just laying light-no soul will wink
Except it have the flaw-
The Sound ones, like the Hills-shall stand-
No Lighting, scares away-

The Perfect, nowhere be afraid-
They bear their dauntless Heads,
Where others, dare not go at Noon,
Protected by their deeds-

The Stars dare shine occasionally
Upon a spotted World-
And Suns, go surer, for their Proof,
As if an Axle, held-