When on that infant morning I arose

And stood before my window gazing through,

I saw my mother dressed in misty clothes,

A-standing 'neath a clinging veil of dew.

She called to me a windy song on high

And beckoned as the trees a-swayed in dance

The birds among their twitching limbs did fly

And all did laugh at winter's countenance.

I drifted out and reached to touch the sky,

Ecstatic like a wand'ring baby lost

Returning to a bosom warm and dry

Which age had torn me from beneath his frost.

I found my mother Earth, and at her breast,

My spirit drank of all which God had bless'd.