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A breath, whence no man knows, Swaying the grating weeds, it blows; It comes, it grieves, it goes. Once it rocked the summer rose.

I pour into the world the eternal streams Wan prophets tent beside, and dream their dreams.

The message from the hedge-leaves, Heed it, whoso thou art; Under lowly eaves Lives the happy heart.

No command of art, No toil, can help you hear; Earth's minstrelsy falls clear But on the listening heart.

The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears.

Holding occasion by the hand, Not over nice 'twixt weed and flower, Waiving what none can understand, I make mine hour.

I question not if thrushes sing, If roses load the air; Beyond my heart I need not reach When all is summer there.

We look through gloom and storm-drift Beyond the years: The soul would have no rainbow Hard the eyes no tears.

The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears.

The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves, Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives; Over and over To the lowly clover He has lisped the same love . He will be lisping and pledging to you.