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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.
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 lie 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 rais'd her pitying head:
She bow'd over the weeping infant, and her life exhal'd
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.'
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