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"