I know what happiness is —...

I know what happiness is —

It is the negation of thought,

The shutting off

Of all those brooding phantoms that surround

As dank trees in a forest

Cutting the daylight into rags,

Caging the sun

In rusted prison bars.

Happiness loves to lie at a river's edge

And make no song,

But listen to the water's murmuring wisdom,

The kissing touch of leaves wind-bowed together,

The feathery swish of cloud wings on a hill;

Opening wide the violet-petalled doors

Of every shy and cloistered sense,

That all the scent and music of the world

May rush into the soul.

And happiness expands

The rainbow arch for a procession of dreams,

For moth-like fancies winged with evening,

For dove-breasted silences,

For shadowy reveries

And starry pilgrims....

I know what happiness is —

It is the giving back to Earth

Of all our furtive thefts,

The lurid jewels that we stole away

From passion, sin and pain,

Because they glittered strangely, luring us

With their forbidden beauty.

Because our childish fingers curiously

Crave the pale secrets of the moon

And grope for dangerous toys.

Happiness comes in giving back to Earth

The things we took from her with violent hands,

Remembering only

That her dust is our garment,

Her fruits our endeavour,

Her waters our priestess,

Her leaves our interpreters to God,

Her hills our infinite patience.