And faint the lily on its stem,
And faint the perfect violet
Compared with them.
I heard the songs of Paradise:
It soared like incense to the skies.
Soft cooing notes among the trees:
The nightingale herself were cold
To such as these.
I saw the fourfold River flow,
And deep it was, with golden sand;
It flowed between a mossy land
With murmured music grave and low.
For fainting spirits strength and rest:
From east to west.
The Tree of Life stood budding there,
Its shadowing branches fill the air.
Sweeter than honey to the taste
And balm indeed.
I saw the gate called Beautiful;
And looked, but scarce could look, within;
And outskirts of the glassy pool.
Oh harps, oh crowns of plenteous stars,
Nor heart conceived.
I hope to see these things again,
To have all Heaven beneath my feet
For narrow way that once they trod;
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