There the wild fowl in the waste land
On the highest beams buildeth his house,
On the loftiest limbs, and he liveth there
In that upper room; on all sides he surrounds
205 In that shade unbroken his body and wings
With blessed fragrance and fairest of blooms,
The most gorgeous of green things that grow on the earth.
He awaiteth his journey when the gem of heaven
In the summer season, the sun at its hottest,
210 Shineth over the shade and shapeth its destiny,