"Dancing is the sea, the winds are dancing also:
Breath of angels hath the sun-warmed hay, the poppies are out in scarlet.
Good thing it is for a man to strive in his lifetime.
"A mighty chorus echoeth from the bed of ocean:
There is also the poem of the flight of birds.
Who would conquer sin, must learn praise and gratitude.
"Who hath set the thrift in the rocks that are smooth and barren?
Who nourisheth the little sweet rose that maketh a garden of the sand-dunes?
How can a man wander, when for him the Love of God is nailed on high?
"The corn-ears are purple-ripe: