All the world's a restless soul
Planted, with half an acre
To grow, and
Half my heart
To fold.
She spies
The wind blown rose bud,
The crown of the sea—
A world behind a window aged
She dances with giants
Upon the sun-soaked soil that
hugs her father and buries another.
But her songs atop the noble pine,
Soughing in the valley,
Cling, climb the knotted branches
Green the withered needles
With eager hands that sing
The mountain top's tired hymn:
"We wake, we wake"
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