Classic Poem

Beauty wins all my worship: I can gaze
Upon a scene of loveliness until
A blissful rapture through my being plays,
And both mine eyelids fill.

Rising and setting suns possess the power
To stir my spirit with their mystic leaven;
And in the petals of a simple flower
I see a glimpse of heaven.

A summer morning melts into my soul;
A gurgling streamlet gushes o'er my heart;
A happy blaze of sunlight bids the whole
Of this world's cares depart.

Whate'er in Art or Nature that excels —
In all things pure, and holy, and refined
From outward dross of earth — there beauty dwells
Eternally enshrined!

Its essence permeates the atmosphere;
To fix its form in stone the sculptor tries
And I have drunk its spirit from the clear
Blue depths of pictured eyes.

Therefore I count its sweetness all divine,
And my deep-drawn devotion long to prove,
The while I burn upon its sacred shrine
The incense of my love.

Nor is this love idolatry, for in
The lowliest flower that rises from the sod
We lose all sense of earthliness and sin,
And stand alone with God!

And while our eyes with tears of rapture swim,
The spirit rises on ecstatic wings,
And yearns for closer intercourse with Him
From whom all beauty springs.