Or rather, O land, if a marvel...

Or rather, O land, if a marvel it seemeth that men ever sought Thy wastes for a field and a garden fulfilled of all wonder and doubt, And feasted amidst of the winter when the light of the year had been fought, Whose plunder all gathered together was little to babble about; Cry aloud from thy wastes, O thou land, "Not for this nor for that was I wrought. Amid waning of realms and of riches and death of things worshipped and sure, I abide here the spouse of a God, and I made and I make and endure."