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THE BREATHING EARTH.
Oh, not by sight or sound alone, I guess
This way her light feet press, —
Light feet of Spring!
It would be told me, though I shut my eyes
Against the ample sky's
Pure witnessing, And saw not how the green blade thrusts its way
Up through the pleached gray, —
To all the tidings clear
Her heralds bring,
Hiding in heaven above
His heaven-dyed wing.
How, sight and sound shut out, should I still guess This way
her light feet press, Light feet of Spring ?