Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/194

 What of the way of the world gone Maying, What of the work of the buds in the bowers, What of the will of the wind on the wall, Fluttering the wall‑flowers, sighing and playing, Shrinking again as a bird that cowers, Thinking of hours when the flowers have to fall?

Out of the throats of the loud birds showering, Out of the folds where the flag‑lilies leap, Out of the mouths of the roses stirred, Out of the herbs on the walls reflowering, Out of the heights where the sheer snows sleep, Out of the deep and the steep, one word.

One from the lips of the lily‑flames leaping, The glad red lilies that burn in our sight, The great live lilies for standard and crown; One from the steeps where the pines stand sleeping, One from the deep land, one from the height, One from the light and the might of the town.