Earth laughs with blissfulness to see you there.
Goats fain would suckle you; while you are near,
They feel they have nought from wild beasts to fear.
Snakes die; nightshade bids its root
Nurture no fair traitor fruit.
Touch the ground; flowers of all hues will spring;
Of sweetest scent, and with no thorns to sting;
Such as the common wayside thickets know,
Or nowhere but in palace gardens blow.
Ivy, Assyrian nard