Mute worship, too fervent for praise or for prayer,
⁠Possesses the spirit with peace,
Fulfilled with the breath of the luminous air,
The fragrance, the silence, the shadows as fair
⁠As the rays that recede or increase.

Ridged pillars that redden aloft and aloof,
⁠With never a branch for a nest,
Sustain the sublime indivisible roof,
To the storm and the sun in his majesty proof,
⁠And awful as waters at rest.

Man's hand hath not measured the height of them; thought
⁠May measure not, awe may not know;
In its shadow the woofs of the woodland are wrought;
As a bird is the sun in the toils of them caught,
⁠And the flakes of it scattered as snow.