Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/200

 Whence the soul takes fire of sweet remembrance, magnified and blest. Thought of songs whose flame-winged feet have trod the unfooted water-floor When the lord of all the living lords of souls bade speed their quest; Soft live sound like children's babble down the rippling sand's incline, Or the lovely song that loves them, hailed with thankful prayer and plea; These are parcels of the harvest here whose gathered sheaves are mine, Garnered now, but sown and reaped where winds make wild with wrath or glee Here the limitless north-eastern, there the strait south-western sea.