by Archibald Lampman





I love the warm bare earth and all
      That works and dreams thereon:
I love the seasons yet to fall:
      I love the ages gone,

The valleys with the sheeted grain,                                             5
      The riverís smiling might,
The merry wind, the rustling rain,
      The vastness of the night.

I love the morningís flame, the steep
      Where down the vapour clings:                                          10
I love the clouds that float and sleep,
      And every bird that sings.

I love the purple shower that pours
      On far-off fields at even:
I love the pine-wood dusk whose floors                                  15
      Are like the courts of heaven.

I love the heavenís azure span,
      The grass beneath my feet:
I love the face of every man
      Whose thought is swift and sweet.                                    20

I let the wrangling world go by,
      And like an idle breath
Its echoes and its phantoms fly:
      I care no joy for death.

Time like a Titan bright and strong                                         25
      Spreads one enchanted gleam:
Each hour is but a fluted song,
      And life a lofty dream.