Love
The atmosphere of Heaven is love, and when
The portal outward swings for souls redeemed,
The precious ether, so released, is streamed
Upon a weary world. God's gift to men
It is, for spirits turned to Him. Oh, then,
They, over whom this wondrous waft is beamed,
Inbreathing it, see visions brain ne'er dreamed,
Or through another source may dream again.
The world is glorified; they sing and sound
A quivering key-note of such ecstasy,
The keen vibrations throb till there is found
A soul companion of rare harmony.
If lightly breathed it ends in one brief round;
If deeply drawn it chords eternally.
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