The Earth-Spirit.

I HAVE woven shrouds of air
In a loom of hurrying light
For the trees which blossoms bear,
And gilded them with sheets of bright.
I fall upon the grass like love’s first kiss,
I make the golden flies and their fine bliss,
I paint the hedge-rows in the lane,
And clover white and red the footways bear;
I laugh aloud in sudden gusts of rain,
To see the ocean lash himself in air;
I throw smooth shells and weeds along the beach,
And pour the curling waves far o’er the glassy reach;
Swing bird-nests in the elms, and shake cool moss
Along the aged beams, and hide their loss.
The very broad rough stones I gladden too,
Some willing seeds I drop along their sides,
Nourish the generous plant with freshening dew,
Till there, where all was waste, true joy abides.
The peaks of aged mountains, with my care,
Smile in the red of glowing morn elate;
I braid the caverns of the sea with hair
Glossy, and long, and rich as king’s estate.
I polish the green ice, and gleam the wall
With the white frost, and leave the brown trees tall.