Flushed with exultant joy, and sings aloud
To harps of sapphire, amethyst and pearl.
Not as the leader of embannered hosts
That wait thy bidding; the glowing seraph,
Bright cherub, or the archangelic throng,
Grave in the virtue of eternal years—
Fair in the beauty of eternal truth—
Sublime and joyful in eternal youth—
Not all thy goings forth with level eyes,
And even tread, harmonious, self-involved—