Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/89

 For in no deeps of midmost inland May More flowerbright flowers the hawthorn, or more sweet Swells the wild gold of the earth for wandering feet; For on no northland way Crowds the close whin-bloom closer, set like thee With thorns about for fangs of sea-rock shown Through blithe lips of the bitter brine to lee; Nor blithelier landward comes the sea-wind blown, Nor blithelier leaps the land-wind back to sea: Nor louder springs the living song of birds To shame our sweetest words. And in the narrowest of thine hollowest hold For joy thine aspens quiver as though for cold, And many a self-lit flower-illumined tree Outlaughs with snowbright or with rosebright glee The laughter of the fields whose laugh is gold. Yea, even from depth to height,