Breathe, Lord Paraclete,
To a bubbled crystal meet—
Breathe, Lord Paraclete—
Crystal soul for Viola.
Angels
Breathe, Regal Spirit, a
Flashing soul for Viola!
VI
The Father of Heaven
Child-angels, from your wings
Fall the roseal hoverings,
Child-angels, from your wings
On the cheeks of Viola.
Angels
Linger, rosy reflex, a
Quenchless stain, on Viola!
VII
All things being accomplished, saith the Father of Heaven: