Moonlight

What time the meanest brick and

Take on a beauty not their own,

And past the flaw of builded

Shines the intention whole and good,

And all the little homes of

Rise to a dimmer, nobler span;

When colour's absence gives

To the deeper spirit of the shape,— Then earth's great architecture

Among her mountains and her

Under the moon to

Massive and primitive and rude:— Then do the clouds like silver

Stream out above the tattered crags,

And black and silver all the

Marshalls its hunched and rocky host,

And headlands striding

Buttress the land against the sea,— The darkened land, the brightening wave —And moonlight slants through Merlin's cave.