Merging in sheen of pearl and shell,
With his great comrade, equal, bright,
Until the petals flashed and sprang,
And folded to the central heart:
Music there was that showered and rang,
As if each angel harped and sang,
Controlled by some celestial art.
The child saw splendor without name,
And turned and smiled, and all the noise
Of strings and singing sank; it came