Chapter II

Earth and the ancient joy are ever young--
When has she changed, for all her many days?
The cloudy banners of her hope are hung,
Spring after spring, through all the woodland ways.

The meditations of the secret earth
Are steadfast and enduring: these remain--
Her sacramental rites of death and birth,
And the old mysteries of love and pain.

Time and the years like wandering clouds go by:
The moon still floods the wood, and from the hill
The cricket lifts the immemorial cry--
And the immortal joy is flowing still.

The everlasting song is still unsung,
And the eternal tale is never told:
Earth and the ancient joy are ever young,
It is the heart that withers and grows old.

RETURN TO EARTH

I have no fear at last to be Home with her that cradled me, Nor shall my being shrink to blend With her dark being in the end-- So one we are, so well I know The bounty of the heart below, Her holy love. Have I not heard The lonely and prophetic word Her hushed hills and valleys keep Locked in their eternal sleep! In Bethlehem, in buried days, So the sacred story says, Out of her ancient dream awoke The elemental heart, and spoke Such thunder in the ears of men As echoes ever after--then Closed her lips in sleep again.