258 LAT OF THE BOSK. 



" What angel but would seem 



To sensual eyes glent-dim ? 

 And without assimilation, 

 Vain is interpenetration ! 



Alas ! what can we do, 



The rose and poet too, 

 Who both antedate our mission 

 In an unprepared season ? 



(( Drop leaf be silent song 



Cold things we came among ! 

 We must warm them, we must warm them 

 Ere we even hope to charm them. 



" Howbeit," here his face 



Highten'd around the place, 

 So to mark the outward turning 

 Of his spirit's inward burning. 



" Something it is to hold 



In God's worlds manifold. 

 First reveal'd to creatures duty, 

 A new form of His mild beauty. 



