When Aspiration seemed its measure brimming,
Longing for joys that crown the spirit-born,
I heard the lays of life that she was hymning.
Who that hath drunk those melodies that rose
Sweet as the murmur of celestial fountains,
Hath not in fancy pictured her with those
Whose feet are beautiful upon the mountains!
"The seraphs all had joy in fuller streams,
When her pure lips their symphonies were swelling;