My heart is high, is high, my dear,
And the warm wind sunnily blows;
My heart is high with a mood that's cheer,
And burns like a sun-blown rose.
My heart is high, is high, my dear,
And the Heaven's deep skies are blue;
My heart is high as the passionate year,
And smiles like a bud in dew.
My heart, my heart is high, my sweet,
For wild is the smell o' the wood,
That gusts in the breeze with a pulse o' heat,
Mad heat that beats like a blood.
My heart, my heart is high, my sweet,
And the sense of summer is full;
A sense of summer,--full fields of wheat,
Full forests and waters cool.
My heart is high, is high, my heart,
As the bee's that groans and swinks
In the dabbled flowers that dart and part
To his woolly bulk when he drinks.
My heart is high, is high, my heart,--
Oh, sing again, O good, gray bird,
That I may get that lilt by heart,
And fit each note with a word.
God's saints! I tread the air, my dear!
Flow one with the running wind;
And the stars that stare I swear, my dear,
Right soon in my hair I'll find.
To live high up a life of mist
With the white things in white skies,
With their limbs of pearl and of amethyst,
Who laugh blue humorous eyes!
Or to creep and to suck like an elfin thing
To the aching heart of a rose;
In the harebell's ear to cling and swing
And whisper what no one knows!
To live on wild honey as fresh as thin
As the rain that's left in a flower,
And roll forth golden from feet to chin
In the god-flower's Danaë shower!
Or free, full-throated curve back the throat
With a vigorous look at the blue,
And sing right staunch with a lusty note
Like the hawk hurled where he flew!
God's life! the blood of the Earth is mine!
And the mood of the Earth I'll take,
And brim my soul with her wonderful wine,
And sing till my heart doth break!
