The people blossoms armies and puts forth The splendid summer of its noiseless might.
Praise be to you, O hills, that you can breathe Into our souls the secret of your power!
I have need of the sky, I have business with the grass; I will up and get me away where the hawk is wheeling Lone and high, And the slow clouds go by. I will get me away to the waters that glass The clouds as they pass. I will get me away to the woods.
The East and the West in the spring of the world shall blend As a man and a woman that plight Their troth in the warm spring night.
Nor love they least Who strike with right good will To vanquish ill And fight God's battle upward from the beast.
Love seeks a guerdon; friendship is as God, Who gives and asks no payment.
There is no sorrow like a love denied Nor any joy like love that has its will.
And you prate of the wealth of nations, as if it were bought and sold, The wealth of nations is men, not silk and cotton and gold.
In all climes we pitch out tents, Cronies of the elements, With the secret lords of birth Intimate and free.
Who would not rather founder in the fight Than not have known the glory of the fray?
Fair weather weddings make fair weather lives.