Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,
But look'd too near have neither heat nor light.

Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright,
But looked to near have neither heat nor light.

The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies white and unspotted, in the round of light thrown by a candle. Puffs of darkness sweep into the corners, and keep rolling through the room behind his chair. The air is silver and pearl, for the night is liquid with moonlight.
See how the roof glitters, like ice!
Over there, a slice of yellow cuts into the silver-blue, and beside it stand two geraniums, purple because the light is silver-blue, to-night.