Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth,
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
Enveloping the earth,
And from the soul itself must there be sent
A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element.
Coleridge.
The spirit leaves the body’s wondrous frame,
That frame itself a world of strength and skill;
The nobler inmate new abodes will claim,