The day walks over the mountains,
To the splash of a thousand fountains,
To the song of a million streams.
Her hair is unbound and flowing,
Her eyes are as bluebells growing
In a valley of shade and dreams.
Her breast, than the snow is whiter,
Her lips, than the poppies brighter,
Her limbs are as strong white fire.
Thus she comes from the sky above her
To the arms of the Earth her lover,
In a splendour of warm desire.