Eine Welt in einem Sandkorn

The whole wilderness seems to be alive and familiar, full of humanity. The very stones seem talkative, sympathetic, brotherly.

To see a World in a Grain of Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour.

To every natural form, rock, fruit or flower, Even the loose stones that cover the high-way, I gave a moral life: I saw them feel, Or linked them to some feeling: the great mass Lay bedded in a quickening soul, and all That I beheld respired with inward meaning.

A Heart alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy pow’r doth cut.

For I so truly thee bemoane, That I shall weep though I be Stone: Until my Tears, still dropping, wear My breast, themselves engraving there.

What wonder then if fields and regions here Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run Portable gold, when with one virtuous touch The arch-chemic sun, so far from us remote, Produces, with terrestrial humour mixed, Here in the dark so many precious things Of colour glorious and effect so rare?

The dust and stones of the street were as precious as gold: the gates were at first the end of the world.

A loadstone is a wonderful thing in very many experiments, and like a living creature.