Winged Words

The winged  words, they pass  
 Still everywhere,  
Seeds of the spirit-grass  
 The dream-winds bear  
From that heart-field to this,  
Where thought as feeling is;  
There’s not a seed will miss  
 Life, once sown there.  
 
They pass, the faery words,  
 In shade and shine,  
As they were magic birds  
 This heart of mine  
Gave shape and colour to,  
As in the light and dew  
The primal creatures grew  
 From germs divine.