The Mountains Are Singing and the Roses Are Singing

Green Thrushes Sang in the Fire, Glowing, Changing to Roses

The Carved Stone, Which Stands Upright in the Whirlwind

The Soft Plume Moves With the Breath of the New Day, and the Ray of the Sun Touches It With Colour

Dressed in Shining Yellow Feathers, Dancing and Leaping in the Sky

The Marsh Hummed and the Ground Shook, the Heath Echoed in Reply

Night Traveller Arises Above the Shining Mountain, Red-Washed in the Streamers of the Sunset, Trailing Cloud Banners