Doth summer’s rose that scene adorn?

Why breathes the incense to the sky?

Why swells th’ exulting harmony?

—And see’st thou not yon form, so light

It seems half floating on the sight,

As if the whisper of a gale,

That did but wave its snowy veil,

Might bear it from the earth afar,

A lovely but receding star?

Know that devotion’s shrine e’en now