Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch,
Draw'st thy bright veil across the heavenly way,
Meet pavement for an angel's glorious march.
My soul is envious of mine eye,
That it should soar and glide with thee so fast
The while my groveling thoughts half buried lie,
Or lawless roam around this earthly waste.
Chains of my heart, avaunt I say—
I will arise, and in the strength of love
Pursue the bright track ere it fade away,