"Whatever else I wish," she said,
"I shall not ever wish me dead.
To lie so still—and not to know
When grasses stir and flowers blow!
Bright light and happy sound," said she,
"And changeful winds to blow for me!"
⁠x⁠x⁠x⁠x
There fell, across her young heart's rush,
A strange and sudden hush

O Breezes, blow your changefullest!
You cannot lure her from her rest.
O Flowers, spring! O Grasses, stir!
You shall not ever waken her.
Call, wild, and sweet, and wistfully,
She will not hear, O Bush and Tree!

For through the dark there stole along
A strange and quiet song.