Then from the door of my opened heart Old blindness and pride are driven, Till I know how high is the humble, The dear earth how close to heaven.
Day long, and night long, From the soaring peaks and the snow, Down through the valley villages The cold white waters flow.
Quiet are the villages; And very quiet the cloud At rest on the breast of the mountain; But the falling waves are loud
Through the little, clustering cottages, Through the little, climbing fields, Where every sunburnt vineyard Its patch of purple yields.
High hung, a steel-bright scimitar, The crooked glacier gleams. The white church dreams in the valley Where the red oleander dreams.
And every wonder of beauty Comes, as a dream comes, true, Where the sun drips rose from the ledges And the moon by the peak swims blue.
The smell of burning weeds Upon the twilight air; The piping of the frogs From meadows wet and bare;
A presence in the wood, And in my blood a stir; In all the ardent earth No failure or demur.
O spring wind, sweet with love And tender with desire, Pour into veins of mine Your pure, impassioned fire.
O waters running free With full, exultant song, Give me, for outworn dream, Life that is clean and strong.
O good Earth, warm with youth, My childhood heart renew. Make me elate, sincere, Simple and glad, as you.
O springing things of green, O waiting things of bloom, O winging things of air, Your lordship now resume.
Up, Heart of mine, Thou wayfarer of earth! Of seed divine, Be mindful of thy birth. Though the flesh faint Through long-endured constraint Of nights and days, Lift up thy praise To life, that set thee in such strenuous ways, And left thee not To drowse and rot In some thick-perfumed and luxurious plot.
Strong, strong is earth With vigour for thy feet, To make thy wayfaring Tireless and fleet. And good is earth,-- But earth not all thy good, O thou with seed of suns And star-fire in thy blood!
And though thou feel The slow clog of the hours Leaden upon thy heel, Put forth thy powers. Thine the deep sky, The unpreëmpted blue, The haste of storm, The hush of dew. Thine, thine the free Exalt of star and tree, The reinless run Of wind and sun, The vagrance of the sea.
Under the pillars of the sky I played at life, I knew not why.