  When He had finished, first his orbÈd sun Blazed through the startled firmament, and all His hosts cried glory, and the stars each one Sang joy together,—then did there not fall A peace of solemn silence on His world, A moment’s hush before one leaf was stirred Or one wave o’er the ocean mirror curled! Lo! then it was the carol of a bird Gave the joy-note of being, up the sky Some lark’s song mounted and the young greenwood Woke to a matin of wild melody,— And He looked down and saw that it was good. |
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