Classic Poem

Then spoke the Spirit of the Earth,
—Her gentle voice like a soft water's song;—
None from my loins have ever birth,
—But what to joy and love belong;
I faithful am, and give to thee
Blessings great, and give them free.
—I have woven shrouds of air
In a loom of hurrying light,
—For the trees which blossoms bear,
And gilded them with sheets of bright;
—I fall upon the grass like love's first kiss,
—I make the golden flies and their fine bliss.
I paint the hedge-rows in the lane,
—And clover white and red the pathways bear,
I laugh aloud in sudden gusts of rain,
To see the ocean lash himself in air . . .