Not only around our infancy
  Doth heaven with all its splendors lie; 10
  Daily, with souls that cringe and plot,
  We Sinais climb and know it not.

Over our manhood bend the skies;
  Against our fallen and traitor lives
The great winds utter prophecies;
  With our faint hearts the mountain strives;
Its arms outstretched, the druid wood
  Waits with its benedicite;
And to our age’s drowsy Wood
  Still shouts the inspiring sea. 20

Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us;
  The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in,
The priest hath his lee who comes and shrives us,
  We bargain for the graves we lie in;
At the devil’s booth are all things sold,
  Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold;
For a cap and bells our lives we pay,
  Bubbles we buy with a whole soul’s tasking: 
’Tis heaven alone that is given away,
  ’Tis only God may be had for the asking 30
No price is set on the lavish summer;
  June may be had by the poorest comer.

And what is so rare as a day in June? 
  Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
  And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
  An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 40
And, groping blindly above it for light,
  Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;
The flush of life may well be seen
  Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green,
  The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there’s never a leaf nor a blade too mean
  To be some happy creature’s palace;
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
  Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 50
And lets his illumined being o’errun
  With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
  And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,—­
  In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?

Now is the high-tide of the year,
  And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
  Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; 60
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it,
We are happy now because God wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
’Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near, 70
  That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,