Life said: “My house is thine with all its store:
Behold I open shining ways to thee-
Of every inner portal make thee free:
O child, I may not bar the outer door. ...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.