The Earth-Child in the Grass

In the very early morning

Long before Dawn time

I lay down in the paddock

And listened to the cold song of the grass.

Between my fingers the green blades,

And the green blades pressed against my body.

"Who is she leaning so heavily upon me?"

Sang the grass.

"Why does she weep on my bosom,

Mingling her tears with the tears of my mystic lover?

Foolish little earth-child!

It is not yet time.

One day I shall open my bosom

And you shall slip in—but not weeping.

Then in the early morning

Long before Dawn time

Your lover will lie in the paddock.

Between his fingers the green blades

And the green blades pressed against his body…

My song shall not sound cold to him

In my deep wave he will find the wave of your hair

In my strong sweet perfume, the perfume of your kisses.

Long and long he will lie there…

Laughing—not weeping."