| Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty,
the stooks rise |
|
Around; up above, what wind-walks! What lovely
behaviour |
|
Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier |
Meal-drift moulded ever and
melted across skies?
|
| I walk, I lift up, I lift up
heart, eyes, |
|
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our
Saviour; |
|
And, éyes, héart, what looks, what lips yet gave
you a |
Rapturous love's greeting of
realer, of rounder replies?
|
| And the azurous hung hills are
his world-wielding shoulder |
|
Majestic - as a stallion stalwart,
very-violet-sweet! - |
| These things, these things were
here and but the beholder |
| Wanting; which two when they once meet, |
| The heart rears wings bold and bolder |
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for
him off under his feet.
|
