The grass is waking in the ground, / Soon it will rise and blow in waves - / How can it have the heart to sway / Over the graves, / New graves?
My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.
It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
Let this single hour atone For the theft of all of me
Down the hill I went, and then, I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy
Places I love come back to me like music, / Hush me and heal me when I am very tired.