The rosy day, in cloudy swaddlings, blinked
Through misty green new-fledged in Wister Wood.
Breathless upon this birth
The still-entranced earth
Seemed brooding, motionless in windless space.
Then rose thy priestly chant, O! holy bird!
And heaven and earth were quickened with its grace;
To tears two wedded souls were moved who heard,
And one, unborn, was stirred!
O! Comforter, enough that from thy green