Leave heaven to heaven, come, earth to earth.
Carve that thy hearth-stone may glimmer bright,
And thy children laugh in dancing light.
Steadily answered the carver’s lips,
As he brushed from his brow the ivory chips;
While the presence grew with the rising sound,
Spurning in grandeur the hollow ground,
As if the breath on the carver’s tongue
Were fumes from some precious censer swung,
That lifted the spirit’s winged soul