I know what beauty is, for thou
      Hast set the world within my heart;
      Of me thou madest it a part;
  I never loved it more than now.

  I know the Sabbath afternoons;
      The light asleep upon the graves:
      Against the sky the poplar waves;
  The river murmurs organ tunes.

  I know the spring with bud and bell;
      The hush in summer woods at night;
      Autumn, when trees let in more light;
  Fantastic winter's lovely spell.

  I know the rapture music gives,
      Its mystery of ordered tones:
      Dream-muffled soul, it loves and moans,
  And, half-alive, comes in and lives.

  And verse I know, whose concord high
      Of thought and music lifts the soul
      Where many a glimmering starry shoal
  Glides through the Godhead's living sky.

  Yea, Beauty's regnant All I know—
      The imperial head, the thoughtful eyes;
      The God-imprisoned harmonies
  That out in gracious motions go.

  But I leave all, O Son of man,
      Put off my shoes, and come to thee!
      Most lovely thou of all I see,
  Most potent thou of all that can!

  As child forsakes his favourite toy,
      His sisters' sport, his new-found nest,
      And, climbing to his mother's breast,
  Enjoys yet more his late-left joy—

  I lose to find. On fair-browed bride
      Fair pearls their fairest light afford;
      So, gathered round thy glory, Lord,
  All glory else is glorified.


— George MacDonald, The Poetical Works Vol. I

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