After the Fashion of an Old Emblem

I have long enough been working down in my cellar, / Working spade and pick, boring-chisel and drill; / I long for wider spaces, airy, clear-dark, and stellar: / Successless labour never the love of it did fill.

More profit surely lies in a holy, pure quiescence, / In a setting forth of cups to catch the heavenly rain, / In a yielding of the being to the ever waiting presence, / In a lifting of the eyes upward, homeward again!