Cleaning The Windows.

Wash the window; rub it dry;         Make the ray-door clean and bright:     He who lords it in the sky         Loves on cottage floors to light!     Looking over sea and beck,         Mountain-forest, orchard-bloom,     He can spy the smallest speck         Anywhere about the room!     See how bright his torch is blazing         In the heart of mother's store!     Strange! I never saw him gazing         So into that press before!     Ah, I see!--the wooden pane         In the window, dull and dead,     Father called its loss a gain,         And a glass one put instead!     What a difference it makes!         How it melts the filmy gloom!     What a little more it takes         Much to brighten up a room!     There I spy a dusty streak!         There a corner not quite clean!     There a cobweb! There the sneak         Of a spider, watching keen!     Lord of suns, and eyes that see,         Shine into me, see and show;     Leave no darksome spot in me         Where thou dost not shining go.     Fill my spirit full of eyes,         Doors of light in every part;     Open windows to the skies         That no moth corrupt my heart.