And on the temples hung of morn and even;
And there were moons, and stars, and darkness streaked
With light; and voice of tempest heard secure.
And there were seasons coming evermore,
And going still—all fair and always new,
With bloom, and fruit, and fields of hoary grain.
And there were hills of flocks, and groves of song;
And flowery streams, and garden walks embowered,
Where side by side the rose and lily bloomed.
And sacred founts, wild hills, and moonlight glens;