I cant tell you, but you feel it

I cant tell you, but you feel it -
Nor can you tell me -
Saints, with ravished slate and pencil
Solve our April Day!

Sweeter than a vanished Frolic
From a vanished Green!
Swifter than the Hoofs of Horsmen[^a1] -
Round a Ledge of Dream!

[^a1: Horsmen | Horsemen]

Modest - let us walk among it -
With our "faces vailed" -
As they say, polite 'Archangels'
Do in meeting God!

Not for me to prate about it!
Not for you to say
To some fashionable Lady -
"Charming April Day"!

Rather, Heaven's 'Peter Parley,'
By which Children - slow -
To sublimer Recitation -
Are prepared to go!