If any place for any soul there be Disrobed and disentrammelled,doubtless it is from such a place and such a soul that this sublimatedmusic falls. The singer, one can imagine, has never known or hasforgotten earth; and if it is visible to him, how teeny it must seemfrom that altitude, "spinning like a fretful midge" beneath him in thevast void!

It is the lark singing in the yellow infinite heaven, at this distancewith something ethereal and heavenly inside his voice; but now the widecircling wings that brought him for a few moments within hearing, haveborne him beyond it again; and missing it, the sunshine looks lessbrilliant than before, and all other bird-voices seem by comparison dulland of the earth.