The thunderbolts were imprisoned in crucibled crystalline ore, And locked in the laughing ocean, and shut in the shining shore, And lulled in the light of evening, and hushed in gentle grain And unimperiled lilies impearled with quiet rain. A world of woven lightning, incredible, unguessed, Where we saw an Easter lily, and Raphael saw the rest. An auburn-haired boy of twelve stood looking in at the door of a blacksmith shop and wondering why the smith sprinkled water on the fire. He stood with two girls and had an arm around each, but for the moment he had forgotten them both.…
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