I sat and for a moment freed my thought
And looked upon the fireplace
The bright spring sun moved upon it
Yes in that great country cottage quiet
I could see my concentration so fixed
That sun and shadow do move
Yet a movement so slow
That it is both moving and unmoving
Fixed yet progressing
Determined, inflexible in the spinning earth
And every piece of browned rough cut wood
Every speck of ash
now light and dark
and now upon the yellow
wall the window frame
still yet in deep concentration moving.