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,