Page:Songs before sunrise (IA beforesunrisongs00swinrich).pdf/203



this northern summer's fold The fields are full of naked gold, Broadcast from heaven on lands it loves; The green veiled air is full of doves; Soft leaves that sift the sunbeams let Light on the small warm grasses wet Fall in short broken kisses sweet, And break again like waves that beat Round the sun's feet.

But I, for all this English mirth Of golden-shod and dancing days, And the old green-girt sweet-hearted earth, Desire what here no spells can raise. Far hence, with holier heavens above, The lovely city of my love Bathes deep in the sun-satiate air That flows round no fair thing more fair Her beauty bare.