PSYCHE.
In vigils lone she hears the chimesOf voices from diviner climes,And sees entranced the statures grand,That throng her lofty fatherland.Unwonted odors, strange and rare,Float round her on the midnight air,From gardens where her youth was spent,Beyond the dark blue firmament.The fleshly walls are white and thin,Which close her yearning spirit in—Celestial footfalls she can hear,Inaudible to grosser ear.She mourns her lot like one exiled,Her songs are filled with longings wildFor home, and that serener dayWhich lights the angels far away.
In vigils lone she hears the chimesOf voices from diviner climes,And sees entranced the statures grand,That throng her lofty fatherland.Unwonted odors, strange and rare,Float round her on the midnight air,From gardens where her youth was spent,Beyond the dark blue firmament.The fleshly walls are white and thin,Which close her yearning spirit in—Celestial footfalls she can hear,Inaudible to grosser ear.She mourns her lot like one exiled,Her songs are filled with longings wildFor home, and that serener dayWhich lights the angels far away.
In vigils lone she hears the chimesOf voices from diviner climes,And sees entranced the statures grand,That throng her lofty fatherland.Unwonted odors, strange and rare,Float round her on the midnight air,From gardens where her youth was spent,Beyond the dark blue firmament.
In vigils lone she hears the chimes
Of voices from diviner climes,
And sees entranced the statures grand,
That throng her lofty fatherland.
Unwonted odors, strange and rare,
Float round her on the midnight air,
From gardens where her youth was spent,
Beyond the dark blue firmament.
The fleshly walls are white and thin,Which close her yearning spirit in—Celestial footfalls she can hear,Inaudible to grosser ear.She mourns her lot like one exiled,Her songs are filled with longings wildFor home, and that serener dayWhich lights the angels far away.
The fleshly walls are white and thin,
Which close her yearning spirit in—
Celestial footfalls she can hear,
Inaudible to grosser ear.
She mourns her lot like one exiled,
Her songs are filled with longings wild
For home, and that serener day
Which lights the angels far away.