I remember the dew on my face, I remember the mingled
Homely smell of grass and unearthly beauty
Out of the ends of the air and the unsealed darkness
Poured in a rain, in a river,
Into my marrow,—thro’ all the veins of delight
Poured into me.
O the divine solitude, the intoxicating silence!
I was a spirit unregioned, worthy of them;
I, even I, was a creature of infinite flight,
Born to be free.