Oft As By Chance, A Little While Apart The Pall Of Empty, Loveless Hours Withdrawn, Sweet Beauty, Opening On The Impoverished Heart, Beams Like The Jewel On The Breast Of Dawn: Not Though High Heaven Should Rend Would Deeper Awe Fill Me Than Penetrates My Spirit Thus, Nor All Those Signs The Patmian Prophet Saw Seem A New Heaven And Earth So Marvelous; But, Clad Thenceforth In Iridescent Dyes, The Fair World Glistens, And In After Days The Memory Of Kind Lips And Laughing Eyes Lives In My Step And Lightens All My Face, - So They Who Found The Earthly Paradise Still Breathed, Returned, Of That Sweet, Joyful Place.