In which the Master of Angelic powers

Lightens the dusk within

The holy of holies, be it thine to win

Rare vistas of white light,

Half parted lips through which the Infinite

Murmurs her ancient story,

Harkening to whom the wandering planets hoary

Waken primeval fires,

With deeper rapture in celestial choirs

Breathe, and with fleeter motion

Wheel in their orbits through the surgeless ocean.

So hearken thou like these,

Intent on her, mounting by slow degrees,

Until thy song's elation

Echoes her multitudinous meditation.

 [3] 

[3]

A SUMMER NIGHT

Her mist of primroses within her breast

Twilight hath folded up, and o'er the west,

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