Part,  Paragraph

 1 Text,  14| When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me,
 2 Text,  18|  and thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through
 3 Text,  40|      all the lights ablaze, golden pennons flying over thy
 4 Text,  44|     my heart, and it is the golden touch of his feet that makes
 5 Text,  49|  the village path, when thy golden chariot appeared in the
 6 Text,  58|  beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the
 7 Text,  66|  comes the morning with the golden basket in her right hand
 8 Text,  66|    draughts of peace in her golden pitcher from the western
 9 Text,  77|  stars has been lost.' ~The golden string of their harp snapped,
10 Text,  86|    door. ~I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening