Bright forms, in girded albs, of heavenly mien.
Such saw the patriarch in his noonday tent:
Three severed shapes that glided in the sun,
Till, lo! they cling, and, interfused and blent,
A lovely semblance gleams, the three in one!
Be such the scenery of this peaceful ground,
This leafy tent amid the wilderness;
Fair skies above, the breath of angels round,
And God the Trinity to beam and bless!
This poem was sent to an intimate friend with this letter:—