And taste the springs of life.

I feel the tumult of new birth;

I waken with the wakening earth;

I match the bluebird in her mirth;

And wild with wind and sun,

A treasurer of immortal days,

I roam the glorious world with praise,

The hillsides and the woodland ways,

Till earth and I are one.

FOREST MOODS

There is singing of birds in the deep wet woods,

In the heart of the listening solitudes,

Pewees, and thrushes, and sparrows, not few,

And all the notes of their throats are true.

The thrush from the innermost ash takes on

A tender dream of the treasured and gone;

But the sparrow singeth with pride and cheer

Of the might and light of the present and here.

There is shining of flowers in the deep wet woods,

In the heart of the sensitive solitudes,

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