Iii

And for a while it moves me to lie down Here on the spot his god-head sanctified: Mayhap some dream he dreamed may lingert brown And young as joy, around the forestside; Some dream within whose heart lives no disdain For such as I whose love is sweet and sane; That may repeat, so none but I may hear-- As one might tell a pearl-strung rosary-- Some epic that the trees have learned to croon, Some lyric whispered in the wild-flower's ear, Whose murmurous lines are sung by bird and bee, And all the insects of the night and noon.