 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
The Sisters thither, ín Sunsetting hours,
Wont to resort, whenas cool rising breath
Is whispering wide; and linked in lovely wise,
They bý those channels shire, in fere, dispace.
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Is whispering wide; and linked in lovely wise,
They bý those channels shire, in fere, dispace.
Where their soles tread, all flowers again unfold,
As to new Dawn; and amorous clip about
Their divine knees, whereso they hap to pass.
Pale asphodel, jacinth, goldilocks, yellow flags;
Perfect in beauty, as gems of trembling clay
And living gold.
As to new Dawn; and amorous clip about
Their divine knees, whereso they hap to pass.
Pale asphodel, jacinth, goldilocks, yellow flags;
Perfect in beauty, as gems of trembling clay
And living gold.
And sith, their wont it is,
Enranged all sitting ón the flowery grass;
(Smiles gather then each moment to their lips;
And blossom ás the flowers, and fade in bliss:)
That sacred golden ríng-lóckt Choir entreat;
Of deep sweet secret things of Heaven and Earth,
And therein cómmuning with divine insight;
They deathless lofty numbers meditate,
And songs weave of the Sun; which well attuned,
To harmony of the spheres, with heavenly voice;
Lifted from Earth, they íntone all in one.
Enranged all sitting ón the flowery grass;
(Smiles gather then each moment to their lips;
And blossom ás the flowers, and fade in bliss:)
That sacred golden ríng-lóckt Choir entreat;
Of deep sweet secret things of Heaven and Earth,
And therein cómmuning with divine insight;
They deathless lofty numbers meditate,
And songs weave of the Sun; which well attuned,
To harmony of the spheres, with heavenly voice;
Lifted from Earth, they íntone all in one.
Whereto bass rumour of the waters fall;
Makes ceaseless undersong; whose cataracts poise
Shakes misty cliffs above. Whence seemeth the World
In sunny hours, as with celestial veil,
Arrayed: and heard is, of the Muses' ears,
Divine Harp, not perceived of human sense;
When pass by unseen, footsteps of the Gods.
Makes ceaseless undersong; whose cataracts poise
Shakes misty cliffs above. Whence seemeth the World
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Arrayed: and heard is, of the Muses' ears,
Divine Harp, not perceived of human sense;
When pass by unseen, footsteps of the Gods.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |