THE GOOD EARTH
The smell of burning weeds
Upon the twilight air;
The piping of the frogs
From meadows wet and bare;
A presence in the wood,
And in my blood a stir;
In all the ardent earth
No failure or demur.
O spring wind, sweet with love
And tender with desire,
Pour into veins of mine
Your pure, impassioned fire.
O waters running free
With full, exultant song,
Give me, for outworn dream,
Life that is clean and strong.
O good Earth, warm with youth,
My childhood heart renew.
Make me elate, sincere,
Simple and glad, as you.
O springing things of green,
O waiting things of bloom,
O winging things of air,
Your lordship now resume.
WAYFARER OF EARTH
Up, Heart of mine,
Thou wayfarer of earth!
Of seed divine,
Be mindful of thy birth.
Though the flesh faint
Through long-endured constraint
Of nights and days,
Lift up thy praise
To life, that set thee in such strenuous ways,
And left thee not
To drowse and rot
In some thick-perfumed and luxurious plot.