Wondrously welling and watering the earth,
Pouring forth in pleasant fountains;
65 The winsome water from the wood’s middle
Each month of the year from the mould of earth,
Cold as the sea, coursing through the woods,
Breaketh abundantly. It is the bidding of the Lord
That twelve times yearly that teeming land
70 The floods shall o’erflow and fill with joy.
The groves are green with gorgeous bloom,
And fairest of fruits; there fail not at all