To reach out and feel is better
Than to hear the trumpets blown;
Beauty celebrated with gongs is mere folly:
Let it touch the nostrils is greater
With a love pervading and a crown
For beauty unexpressed, pure and holy.
Let it touch the eye; sniff its smell,
And let him all awe when it he sees
Open-mouthed as he stares and stares:
Let such a beauty catch like a spell,
Awaking dormant desires; and with ease
Stirring ripples of small, throbbing fires.