Its arms outstretched, the druid1 wood Waits with its benedicite2 And to our age's drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea. Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us; 3 At the devil's booth are all things sold, And what is so rare as a day in June? An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 1 Druid, priest of early Britain. 2 Benedicite, blessing. 3 Cap and bells, the badges of the fools, or jesters, of medieval courts. And, groping blindly above it for light, Thrilling back over hills and valleys; 45 The cowslip startles in meadows green, 50 The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, The little bird sits at his door in the sun, With the deluge of summer it receives; And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; 55 He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best? 60 Now is the high tide of the year, And whatever of life hath ebbed away Comes flooding back, with a ripply cheer, Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, We are happy now because God wills it; No matter how barren the past may have been, 'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green; 65 We sit in the warm shade and feel right well How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing 70 That the skies are clear and the grass is growing; That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, That the river is bluer than the sky, That the robin is plastering his house hard by; We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, - 75 Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how; 80 Every thing is upward striving; 'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true As for grass to be green, or skies to be blue, "Tis the natural way of living: 85 Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake; And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe Remembered the keeping of his vow? PART FIRST I "My golden spurs now bring to me, 100 Shall never a bed for me be spread, Here on the rushes will I sleep, And perchance there may come a vision true 105 Ere day create the world anew." Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim, And into his soul the vision flew. II The crows flapped over by twos and threes, 110 In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees, The little birds sang as if it were The one day of summer in all the year. And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees; The castle alone in the landscape lay 115 Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray; 'Twas the proudest hall in the North Countree, And never its gates might opened be, Save to lord or lady of high degree; Summer besieged it on every side, But the churlish stone her assaults defied; Though round it for leagues her pavilions tall Stretched left and right, Over the hills and out of sight; Green and broad was every tent, And out of each a murmur went Till the breeze fell off at night. III The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang, Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf, Sir Launfal flashed forth in his unscarred mail, IV It was morning on hill and stream and tree, 120 125 130 135 140 |