I lay upon a headland hill:
The sun spilt out his gold;
The wind blew with a fluttering thrill;
The skies were blue and cold.
All day above the little cove
I heard the long wind flow;
The clouds foamed in the blue above,
The blue sea foamed below.
All day the bare sun fiercely burned;
All day in the profound
And quivering grass my body turned,
One with Earth's turning round.
Till, fledged amid her fluid rings,
My soul began to rouse,
And slowly beat her silver wings
Within her darkened house.
Then with vans lifted up for flight,
With stretched and fiery crest,
Upward she leaped toward the light
And drew from out my breast.
How long I lay while she was fled,
And on the cliff below
My body lay stiff, dark, and dead,
I knew not nor may know.
But long it seemed. Sped beyond sight
My soul enjoyed release;
Beyond the clouds, within the light,
She entered into peace.
To-day, amid a world of men,
How often must I cry:
“Happy I never was but then
Nor shall be till I die!”