Classic Poem

I am a chronicler of little things, —
Comings and goings, children's words and ways,
Chance guests, new hosts, and single happy days,
And household legends. These have been the springs
Of much of my best knowledge: I have striven
To make my narrow homely world a glass,
Where shapes and shadows, like a breath, might pass,
Dimly reflecting motions out of Heaven.
And sometimes things have so encountered things
As to eclipse each other, — moving rings
Which meet and intersect, chilling all mirth
When they awhile the wondering household draw
Beneath the shadow of some mighty law,
I circle calm revolving round the earth.