Utopia’s nowhere was newly found
Where you trod, as it is hallowéd ground.
Yea, there do the lilies and violets spring
Into beauty as a poetic thing!
“My Goddess, ye art perfect!” Angels sing,
Who worship with voice as bird on the wing.
A whole civilization could be built
‘Round the holy waters your eyes have spilt,
Since ’round rivers are low ones constructed.
Gorgeous grace that realm will have seducted.
Rejoicing, they’d worship you as their queen.
You’re grand, they’re base, and there’s naught in between.
The multitudes would give their lives for you;
They’d wish there was something more they could do.