Till through Elysian garden islets
  By thee most beautiful of pilots,
  Where never mortal pinnace glided,
  The boat of my desire is guided;
  Realms where the air we breathe is love,
  Which in the winds on the waves doth move,
  Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above.

  We have passed Age's icy caves,
  And Manhood's dark and tossing waves,
  And Youth's smooth ocean, smiling to betray;
  Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee
  Of shadow-peopled Infancy,
  Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day;
  A paradise of vaulted bowers
  Lit by downward-gazing flowers,
  And watery paths that wind between
  Wildernesses calm and green,
  Peopled by shapes too bright to see,
  And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee;
  Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!