I blast the mist of worlds and years apart;
I sense the blending glory of the whole.
The sap of flowers and trees, it mounts in me.
I feel the child within me cry and turn;
The crimson thoughts within me writhe and burn.—
I stand, with craving arms high-flung, before the rimless sea.
And every whirling, passionate star sings melodies to Me;
And every bud and every leaf has sought my private ear;
And to the quickening soul of Me has told its mystery,
As I sit in state in the heart of the world,