All day the spirit have we breathed
Of ferny hills and valleys and clouds hill-steep,
Knowing not how nor whence bequeathed
Joy was arisen
Lovelier than fountains seen in sleep.
Whence should have come this strange rebirth,
This rose in abandoned gardens blossoming,
Had we not long ago made Earth
Our secret altar
Garlanded with our worshipping?
When she was young, Earth, loving thee,
Blessed us with halcyon noontide, tranquil night.
And now in eye and mouth I see
Beauty resurgent
That could not perish, being so bright.
Surely my song had fashioned first
Some alchemy for thy body’s quickening,
Before its splendour was dispersed
A few dumb ashes
Into the cool of evening.