1
For the lands and for these passionate days and for myself，
Now I awhile retire to thee O soil of autumn fields，
Reclining on thy breast， giving myself to thee，
Answering the pulses of thy sane and equable heart，
Tuning a verse for thee.
O earth that hast no voice， confide to me a voice，
O harvest of my lands - O boundless summer growths，
O lavish brown parturient earth - O infinite teeming womb，
A song to narrate thee.
For the lands and for these passionate days and for myself，
Now I awhile retire to thee O soil of autumn fields，
Reclining on thy breast， giving myself to thee，
Answering the pulses of thy sane and equable heart，
Tuning a verse for thee.
O earth that hast no voice， confide to me a voice，
O harvest of my lands - O boundless summer growths，
O lavish brown parturient earth - O infinite teeming womb，
A song to narrate thee.