Bloom, fervour, and perfume of grasses and flowers aglow,
⁠Breathe and brighten about me: the darkness gleams,
The sweet light shivers and laughs on the slopes below,
⁠Made soft by leaves that lighten and change like dreams;
⁠The silence thrills with the whisper of secret streams
That well from the heart of the woodland: these I know:
⁠Earth bore them, heaven sustained them with showers and beams.

I lean my face to the heather, and drink the sun
⁠Whose flame-lit odour satiates the flowers: mine eyes
Close, and the goal of delight and of life is one:
⁠No more I crave of earth or her kindred skies.
⁠No more? But the joy that springs from them smiles and flies:
The sweet work wrought of them surely, the good work done,
⁠If the mind and the face of the season be loveless, dies.