As from the darkening gloom a silver dove Upsoars, and darts into the eastern light, On pinions that nought moves but pure delight, So fled thy soul into the realms above, Regions of peace and everlasting love; Where happy spirits, crown’d with circlets bright Of starry beam, and gloriously bedight, Taste the high joy none but the blest can prove. There thou or joinest the immortal quire In melodies that even heaven fair Fill with superior bliss, or, at desire, Of the omnipotent Father, cleav’st the air On holy message sent—What pleasure’s higher? Wherefore does any grief our joy impair?