HERE is the perfume of the leaves, the incense of the pines
The magic scent that hath been pent
Within the tangled vines:
No censer filled with spices rare
E'er swung such sweetness on the air.
And all the golden gloom of it holdeth no haunting fear
For it is blessed, and giveth rest
To those who enter here
Here in the eveningwho can know
But God Himself walks to and fro!
And music past all mastering within the chancel rings;
None could desire a sweeter choir
Than thisthat soars and sings,
Till far the scented shadows creep
And quiet darkness bringeth sleep.
