Dwell from the throng apart,
And but to shades disclose
The inmost thought, which glows
With its pure life entwined.
Shut from the sounds wherein the day rejoices,
To no triumphant song your petals thrill,
But send forth odours with the faint, soft voices
Rising from hidden streams, when all is still.
—So doth lone prayer arise,
Mingling with secret sighs,