Of righteousness, purity,—heaven’s best recruits.
Through garlands of verdure thy rough branches hid;
With bloom in profusion, hills, plains, all tumid.
These words of mine come from the Spirit supreme,
To call to mind heaven’s everlasting grand scheme.
Thou smellest a perfume of flowers. Flowers are not yet;
Thou dreamest fermentation, though wine is not set.360
That odour will draw thee to where the flowers grow,[238]
The joys of sweet paradise, “where rivers flow.”[239]
Of hope it perfume is that leads our souls on;