FINAL CHORUS.
From what clear wells of wonder
Upspringing and upspringing,
From what rock cleft asunder
Leaps this stream cool and bright?
What secret joy thereunder
Melodiously upflinging
Its heart in ceaseless music upon the lyre of light?
To what high aery choiring
This hour her way is winging,
Her dewy troth to plight?
This golden hour aspiring
Above the glad bells ringing,
More sweet than sweet birds' music, more fleet than fleet
birds' flight?
What joy and hope here clinging,
With gentle fingers twining
In wrapt and mystic rite?
What love unblind is bringing
Two mortals swift and shining,
With faces to the morning, with footsteps from the night?
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY WOODS AND SONS, LTD., LONDON, N.1.