’Dost thou, O little Cloud?  I fear that I am not like thee,
  For I walk through the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest flowers,
  But I feed not the little flowers; I hear the warbling birds,
  But I feed not the warbling birds; they fly and seek their food: 
  But Thel delights in these no more, because I fade away;
  And all shall say, “Without a use this shining woman lived,
  Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms?"’

  The Cloud reclined upon his airy throne, and answered thus:—­

  ’Then if thou art the food of worms, O Virgin of the skies,
  How great thy use, how great thy blessing!  Everything that lives
  Lives not alone nor for itself.  Fear not, and I will call
  The weak Worm from its lowly bed, and thou shalt hear its voice. 
  Come forth, Worm of the silent valley, to thy pensive Queen.’

  The helpless Worm arose, and sat upon the Lily’s leaf,
  And the bright Cloud sailed on, to find his partner in the vale.

  III

  Then Thel astonished viewed the Worm upon its dewy bed.

  ’Art thou a Worm?  Image of weakness, art thou but a Worm? 
  I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lily’s leaf. 
  Ah! weep not, little voice, thou canst not speak, but thou canst weep. 
  Is this a Worm?  I see thee lay helpless and naked, weeping,
  And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mother’s smiles.’ 
  The Clod of Clay heard the Worm’s voice, and raised her pitying head;
  She bowed over the weeping infant, and her life exhaled
  In milky fondness:  then on Thel she fixed her humble eyes.

  ’O Beauty of the vales of Har! we live not for ourselves. 
  Thou seest me, the meanest thing, and so I am indeed. 
  My bosom of itself is cold, and of itself is dark;
  But He that loves the lowly pours His oil upon my head,
  And kisses me, and binds His nuptial bands around my breast,
  And says:  “Thou mother of my children, I have loved thee,
  And I have given thee a crown that none can take away.” 
  But how this is, sweet maid, I know not, and I cannot know;

  I ponder, and I cannot ponder; yet I live and love.’ 
  The daughter of beauty wiped her pitying tears with her white veil,
  And said:  ’Alas!  I knew not this, and therefore did I weep. 
  That God would love a worm I knew, and punish the evil foot
  That wilful bruised its helpless form; but that He cherished it
  With milk and oil, I never knew, and therefore did I weep;
  And I complained in the mild air, because I fade away,
  And lay me down in thy cold bed, and leave my shining lot.’

  ‘Queen of the vales,’ the matron Clay answered, ’I heard thy sighs,
  And all thy moans flew o’er my roof, but I have called them down. 
  Wilt thou, O queen, enter my house?  ’Tis given thee to enter,
  And to return:  fear nothing; enter with thy virgin feet.’