How I lurk through the hours
In street and hall and corridor,
Like a thief subtle of moments
When I must Thy splendour consider.

How blatant my swift craft
When in plain sight I withdraw
Into a musing space in heart
To peruse the minutiae of Thy law.

In scenes occupied by men and women,
Puppets drawn by string-hands of fate,
I venture by Thy will driven
And of Thy numberless plots contemplate.

What strange role is mine
Under a drab sun and a dull day,
When my soul is to Thee foresworn
But must by body walk a human way.

Yet today with all daemons I shall spar
Donning Thy name on my battle-armour.