I will write letters to my friend the grass,

I will sing all my songs to lilac flowers

Gather the spices in the airs that pass, <

And wrap my heart close shrouded in hours.

I dread man's huge impertinence; he creeps

Thro' the inviolate silences of Spring

Like a marauder, waking that which sleeps

To gather strength for lyric blossoming.

I will write all my letters to the grass.

The world shall be resolved into a cry

Faint as a little voice that cries Alas!

And I will laugh alone beneath the sky.

"And wrap my heart close shrouded in the hours"