Of stars and flowers and waters and breasts of glimmering white,

And streaming hair of fragrant dusk and flying limbs of lovely light;

Life of me, life of me, shining in sun and cloud and wind,

In the dark eyes of the fawn and the eyes of the hound behind,

In the leaves that lie in the seed unsown, and the dream of the babe unborn,

O, flaming tides of my blood, as you flow thro' flower and root and thorn,

I feel you burning the boughs of night to kindle the fires of morn.

Soul of me, soul of me, yearning wherever a lavrock sings,

Or the crimson gloom is winnowed by the whirr of wood-doves' wings,

Or the spray of the foam-bow rustles in the white dawn of the moon,

And mournful billows moan aloud, Come soon, soon, soon,

Come soon, O Death with the Heart of love and the secret of the rune.

Heart of me, heart of me, heart of me, beating, beating afar,

In the green gloom of the night, in the light of the rosy star,

In the cold sweet voice of the bird, in the throb of the flower-soft sea!...

O, the Heart of the woods is the Heart of the world and the Heart of Eternity,

Ay, and the burning passionate Heart of the heart in you and me.

II

O, Death will never find us in the heart of the wood,

The song is in my blood, night and day:

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