*The peaceful melody soars high, wispy notes and wispy clouds, ever-changing under the Bright Shiner's pale fingers. The notes flow smoothly, as water over pebbles in the stream bed, or as the images seen in the steam rising from a boiling teakettle on a cool morning. The shifting melody carries with it peace and contentment. The feeling of slowly waking up in the warm bundle of blankets to a morning that promises that the day will be bright and pure. Soon, Yrael begins to sing, his voice a soothing, warm tenor.*

I would build a cloudy House
For my thoughts to live in;
When for earth too fancy-loose
And too low for Heaven!
Hush! I talk my dream aloud-
I build it bright to see,-
I build it on the moonlit cloud,
To which I looked with thee.

Cloud-walls of the morning's grey,
Faced with amber column,-
Crowned with crimson cupola
From a sunset solemn!
May mists, for the casements, fetch,
Pale and glimmering;
With a sunbeam hid in each,
And a smell of spring.

Build the entrance high and proud,
Darkening and then brightening,-
If a riven thunder-cloud,
Veined by the lightning.
Use one with an iris-stain,
For the door within;
Turning to a sound like rain,
As I enter in.

Build a spacious hall thereby:
Boldly, never fearing.
Use the blue place of the sky,
Which the wind is clearing;
Branched with corridors sublime,
Flecked with winding stairs-
Such as children wish to climb,
Following their own prayers.

In the mutest of the house,
I will have my chamber:
Silence at the door shall use
Evening's light of amber,
Solemnising every mood,
Softemng in degree,-
Turning sadness into good,
As I turn the key.

Be my chamber tapestried
With the showers of summer,
Close, but soundless,-glorified
When the sunbeams come here;
Wandering harpers, harping on
Waters stringed for such,-
Drawing colours, for a tune,
With a vibrant touch.

Bring a shadow green and still
From the chestnut forest,
Bring a purple from the hill,
When the heat is sorest;
Spread them out from wall to wall,
Carpet-wove around,-
Whereupon the foot shall fall
In light instead of sound.

Bring the dews the birds shake off,
Waking in the hedges,-
Those too, perfumed for a proof,
From the lilies' edges:
From our peaceful field and moor,
Bring them calm and white in;
Whence to form a mirror pure,
For Love's self-delighting.

Bring a grey cloud from the east,
Where the lark is singing;
Something of the song at least,
Unlost in the bringing:
That shall be a morning chair,
Poet-dream may sit in,
When it leans out on the air,
Unrhymed and unwritten.

Bring the red cloud from the sun
While he sinketh, catch it.
That shall be a couch,-with one
Sidelong star to watch it,-
Fit for poet's finest Thought,
At the curfew-sounding,-;
Things unseen being nearer brought
Than the seen, around him.

Poet's thought,-not poet's sigh!
'Las, they come together!
Cloudy walls divide and fly,
As in April weather!
Cupola and column proud,
Structure bright to see-
Gone-except that moonlit cloud,
To which I looked with thee!

Let them! Wipe such visionings
From the Fancy's cartel-
Love secures some fairer things
Dowered with his immortal.
The sun may darken,-heaven be bowed-
But still, unchanged shall be,-
Here in my soul,-that moonlit cloud,
To which I looked with thee.