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.