XIV

Brown bed of earth, still fresh and warm with love, Now hold me tight: Broad field of sky, where the clouds laughing move, Fill up my pores with light:

You trees, now talk to me, chatter and scold or weep, Or drowsing stand: You winds, now play with me, you wild things creep, You boulders, bruise my hand!

I now am yours and you are mine: it matters not What Gods herein I see: You grow in me, I am rooted to this spot, We drink and pass the cup, immortally.