Thou Who Art in Me

And fallen, fallen light renew!
—William Blake

Thou, this humid cloak at dusk, a blue
Air flattened, smoldering the same
Field for years. Oh, Thou—this hardened name
For You not joyously sprung, not grown to grace
Out of me: how to instill a tint
Of silver out from ash, a trace
                               Out, out from my cramped cell.
Renew our life, oh Thou! Wake, rise and glint
In me like extended wings slick with dew.
Be the pulse driven from a broken shell.