The Ballad of St. Barbara and other verses/The Trinkets
THE TRINKETS
A wandering world of rivers,A wavering world of trees, If the world grow dim and dizzyWith all changes and degrees,It is but Our Lady's mirrorHung dreaming in its place,Shining with only shadowsTill she wakes it with her face.
The standing whirlpool of the stars,The wheel of all the world,Is a ring on Our Lady's fingerWith the suns and moons empearledWith stars for stones to please herWho sits playing with her ringsWith the great heart that a woman hasAnd the love of little things.
Wings of the whirlwind of the worldFrom here to Ispahan,Spurning the flying forestsAre light as Our Lady's fan: For all things violent here and vainLie open and all at easeWhere God has girded heaven to guardHer holy vanities.