No fragrance of the early months, when earth
Teems with the pledge of after-blossoming,
No May day scents of bud and leaf, no morn
Of June rose-regal — none of these have worth
For sweetness of the savor they do bring
Compared with that rich incense swift up-borne
By saintly prayers unto God's very face —
Soul emanations, odors mixed with grace,
Perfumed and perfect for that heavenly place.