XIV

Brown bed of earth, still fresh and warm with love,

Now hold me tight:

Broad field of sky, where the clouds laughing move,

Fill up my pores with light:

You trees, now talk to me, chatter and scold or weep,

Or drowsing stand:

You winds, now play with me, you wild things creep,

You boulders, bruise my hand!

I now am yours and you are mine: it matters not

What Gods herein I see:

You grow in me, I am rooted to this spot,

We drink and pass the cup, immortally.