Like to a light fast lock'd in lanthorn dark

Like to a light fast lock'd in lanthorn dark, Whereby by night our wary steps we guide In slabby streets, and dirty channels mark, Some weaker rays through the black top do glide, And flusher streams, perhaps, from horny side; But when we've past the peril of the way, Arrived at home, and laid that case aside,— The naked light how clearly doth it ray, And spread its joyful beams as bright as summer's day.

Even so the soul, in this contracted state, Confined to these strait instruments of sense, More dull and narrowly doth operate; At this hole hears,—the sight must ray from thence,— Here tastes, there smells;—but when she's gone from hence,

Like naked lamp she is one shining sphere, And round about has perfect cognoscence, Whatever in her horizon doth appear. She is one orb of sense, all eye, all airy ear.