the web of being blindly wove...

                                             ..... he doth bear
  His part, while the one Spirit’s plastic stress
  Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there
  All new successions to the forms they wear;
  Torturing th’ unwilling dross that checks its flight
  To its own likeness, as each mass may bear;
  And bursting in its beauty and its might
From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven’s light.

  The splendours of the firmament of time
  May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not;
  Like stars to their appointed height they climb
  And death is a low mist which cannot blot
  The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought
  Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair,
  And love and life contend in it, for what
  Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there
And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.

The soft sky smiles,—the low wind whispers near;
 ’Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither,
No more let Life divide what Death can join together
  That Light whose smile kindles the Universe,
  That Beauty in which all things work and move,
  That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse
  Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love
  Which through the web of being blindly wove
  By man and beast and earth and air and sea,
  Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of
  The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me,
Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.

  The breath whose might I have invoked in song
  Descends on me; my spirit’s bark is driven,
  Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng
  Whose sails were never to the tempest given;
  The massy earth and spherèd skies are riven!