On Entering a New Abode
In this dry thatch are fleas and building birds;
through the withered straw great water-drops do leak
when the cloud sails over; crooked are the walls
and cracked with age; loud do the floorboards creak.
Yet in this little house we shall not fear
the world's rough usage, storms nor tempest-shocks,
for love makes palaces of lowly huts
and clings with eagle courage to cold rocks.
And though the pane be broken, and chill winds
infest our chamber, see what a lovely light
swims through the rent and spills a pool of gold
at morning, and what stars do dance at night.
Our arms are gates wherefrom we 'scape this world;
and if the spider dangles from the wall
'tis but a symbol of our perilous love,
which hangs by a thread from heaven, yet shall not fall.
So now for feasting days and nights of love;
let Joy be led within and decked with leaves;
let innocence and mirth crown all our days,
and never heart be sad beneath these eaves.