No sound of human sorrow, nor of mirth,
Streamed on that peace abroad,
And all the night leaned low upon the earth
Like the calm face of God.
And in our hearts there breathed, like life, a breath
Of most delicious pain:
It seemed a whisper ran from birth to death,
And back to birth again,
And bound in airy chains our shining hours,
Past, present, and to come,