Chapter XLIX

Behold, the winds have speech and speak!
The stars of heaven are eloquent!
A voice within us bids us seek
The word the flowers say in scent:
The paraclete encouragement
Of beauty that the burning scrolls
Of eve and morning give our souls.

There is one language of the mart;
Another of the rocks and trees:
Unrest and greed is this one’s heart;
The other’s heart is rest and peace:
Within our souls we know of these;
They lead us by the myths we love,
Yet never see and know not of.