As the choir sings
The parishners press
Praying hands
To their breasts,
A humming sigh
Of love\'s golden harp
Begins the dance,
Around and around
Voices are raised
As light as a feather,
Graceful as a bird
They dance and soar
Until silence
Falls,
In this quiet place
The words
Are whispered,
\"Love comes from the soul
Not the heart of
gold.\"