His eyes are quickened so with grief, br He can watch a grass or leaf br Every instant grow; he can br Clearly through a flint wall see, br Or watch the startled spirit flee br From the throat of a dead man. br Across two counties he can hear br And catch your words before you speak. br The woodlouse or the maggot's weak br Clamour rings in his sad ear, br And noise so slight it would surpass br Credence--drinking sound of grass, br Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth br Chumbling holes in cloth; br The groan of ants who undertake br Gigantic loads for honour's sake br (Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin); br Whir of spiders when they spin, br And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs br Of idle grubs and flies. br This man is quickened so with grief, br He wanders god-like or like thief br Inside and out, below, above, br Without relief seeking lost love.