I have touched the edge of a sweet refrain;
The lark's ascent in the chilling rain,
The sweetened song on his gentle tongue,
Shot with the lightning the heavens rung.
His wing like gold in the dark of night,
An angel of beauty, as dawn's delight;
No one believes me I saw him fly
Straight to the glory of God's great eye.
The gates swung wide, he touched their tip
He hovered on the edge of the shining lip;
It was there he hung: then he shot away;
Not a soul has beheld him since that dim day.