Heaven, The Seat Of Bliss, Brooks Not

From Morn To Noon He Fell, From Noon To Dewy Eve,- A Summer's Day; And With The Setting Sun Dropp'd From The Zenith Like A Falling Star.

Untwisting All The Chains That Tie The Hidden Soul Of Harmony.

From Haunted Spring And Dale Edg'd With Poplar Pale The Parting Genius Is With Sighing Sent.

Time Will Run Back And Fetch The Age Of Gold.

Heav'nly Love Shall Outdoo Hellish Hate