Or sweet songs of other days;
Heaven-revealing organs pealing,
Or clear voices hymning praise,
And would’st weep, thou know’st not wherefore,
Though thy soul is steeped in joy;
And the world looks kindly on thee;
And thy bliss hath no alloy—
Weep, nor seek for consolation,
Let the heaven-sent droplets flow,
They are hints of mighty secrets;