  JOY of the senses, joy of all And each of them, as fall The Holy Oils!... O senses, ye would dance, Would circle what ye cannot see, Nor hear, nor smell, nor taste, nor touch, Yet ye receive of your felicity, Till ye would reel and dance; The joy apparent from your bliss being such That, in a fivefold garland knit, Softly ye would circle it. Joy ripples through each covered lid; Nor are the ears forbid Sounds as of honeycomb, so sweet is Heaven Afar, such sweet, such haunting sound! O nostrils, myrtle ye shall love! The lips taste fully, as if God were found. Swift, under peace, toward Heaven The hands, the feet, so still, like still lakes move, Delighted Powers of Sense, ye dance, Woven in such a lovely chance! |
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