Self marks the fragrance of the spicéd air, The restful woven path; Self walks and smiles; Self feels the beauty glowing everywhere, And pomp and grandeur of the forest aisles.
Soul thrills to madness as it scarce remains, But floats before me as a hidden mist; And earth has vanished; only joy alone Is pearl and grey and tinged with amethyst.
But high above in slender, golden rays, The sun bursts through into that forest dim; And in the reverence of a kingly hour, I walked with Him.
