The wind blows
Through her eyes,
Snow is banked
In her whiter thighs,
The birds are frantic with
Her last distress,
And flutter and chatter over
Her nakedness.
And her blind
Eyes are prayers
Where she lies
By the boulders
The strong shoulders
Of the Earth
Who is kind
And will harvest
Her prayers
And abideth
His time.
Destroyed is the well
Of her magic,
But where she lies silent
And tragic the earth
Pallid in reverie
Stirs with the birth
Of the flowers, the white
And the red that she gives,
The tendrils and swarming of all
That still lives, oh still lives!
And she comes from the dead,
Smiling, without mystery,
Homeward slowly turning
Century by century.
And all the heart's deep yearning
In her Being is burning, burning.