They push aside the lazy weeds that hide

The upper air; and keeping in their breasts

The fair white secret of their blossoming,

Rise to the heaven they worship. Suddenly,

Awed at the vast immensity of light

That wraps the earth as with a garment; awed

By the deep silence of that upper air,

They bend their stately heads, to breathe to earth

A murmured penitence for olden pride.

The fair white bells they kept so jealously