Classic Poem

I ran into the early dew
To breathe the break of day,
And all at once was made so new
That I began to play.

But first, I wept — it shone so bright!
It almost seemed to sing.
It sprang from an abyss of light
An innocent wild thing.

And richly did it feed my soul
With sustenance of flame.
It burned like archangelic bread
And to the feast I came.

Oh, purple light! Oh, golden sheen!
More white than fiery snow!
It sweetly burned and smiled at me
And would not let me go.

All other things I did forget
Save how to laugh and run.
I thought I had a shining shape,
A daughter of the sun.

Into the bosom of my Lord,
With eagerness I flew —
Playing my strange and lovely game,
The innocence of the dew.

I cried as happy children cry
Into a father's ear,
For the lover of all playing things
Is ever quick to hear.

And in the presence of the Lord
All innocent play comes true.
I knew he would rejoice to see
My frolic in the dew.

He showed me how to weave a crown
Of exquisite desire,
Blossomed and leaved with living flame
And garlandings of fire.

He plucked me apples of the sun
From off a golden bough,
Then left a wreath of laughing light
Around my happy brow.