O CHANTRY of the Cherubim, 
Down-looking on the stream! 
Beneath thy boughs the day grows dim; 
Through windows comes the gleam; 
A thousand raptures fill the air, 
Beyond delight, beyond despair. 

I will not name one flower that clings 
In cluster at my feet! 
I will not hail one bird that sings 
Its anthem loud or sweet! 
This is the floor of Heaven, and these 
The angels that God?s ear do please. 

I walk as one unclothed of flesh, 
I wash my spirit clean; 
I see old miracles afresh, 
And wonders yet unseen. 
I will not leave Thee till Thou give 
Some word whereby my soul may live! 

I listened?but no voice I heard; 
I looked?no likeness saw; 
Slowly the joy of flower and bird 
Did like a tide withdraw; 
And in the heaven a silent star 
Smiled on me, infinitely far. 

I buoyed me on the wings of dream, 
Above the world of sense; 
I set my thought to sound the scheme, 
And fathom the Immense; 
I tuned my spirit as a lute 
To catch wind-music wandering mute. 

Yet came there never voice nor sign; 
But through my being stole 
Sense of a Universe divine, 
And knowledge of a soul 
Perfected in the joy of things, 
The star, the flower, the bird that sings. 

Nor I am more, nor less, than these; 
All are one brotherhood; 
I and all creatures, plants, and trees, 
The living limbs of God; 
And in an hour, as this, divine, 
I feel the vast pulse throb in mine.