Classic Poem

. . . THEN out-streamed a Light
Brightest that of beaming pillars! All that Beacon fair,
All that heavenly glow round the holy home,
Was upreared on high, even to the roof of Heaven,
From the field of earth, like a fiery tower,
Seen beneath the sky's expanse, sheenier than the sun,
Glory of the glorious stars! Hosts of angels sang
Loud the lay of Victory! In the lift the ringing sound
Now was heard the heaven under, raptures of the Holy Ones!
So the blessed Burgstead was with blisses filled,
With the sweetest scents, and with skiey wonders,
With the angels' singing to its innermost recesses;
Heirship of the Holy One!
More onelike it was,
And more winsome there, than in world of ours
Any speech may say; how the sound and odour,
How the clang celestial, and the saintly song
Heard in Heaven were — high-triumphant praise of God,
Rapture following rapture.
All our island trembled,
All its Field-floor shook.