I begin through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord;

I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of rest

Of the Earth, of the Mother, my heart with her heart in accord:

[31]

As I lie mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breast

I begin with the grass once again to be bound to the Lord.

By the hand of a child I am led to the throne of the King,

For a touch that now fevers me not is forgotten and far,

And His infinite sceptred hands that sway us can bring

Me in dreams from the laugh of a child to the song of a star.

On the laugh of a child I am borne to the joy of the King.

[32]

Well, when all is said and done 

Best within my narrow way,

May some angel of the sun

Muse memorial o'er my clay:

'Here was beauty all betrayed

From the freedom of her state;

From her human uses stayed

On an idle rhyme to wait.

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