I have wept tears, and learnt, I fear, sad ways
Of searching for a smile, and I can guess
The secret of a wan mouth's droopingness,
And know which eyes are they that waste their gaze
On the hid grave of hop--yet ne'er the less
My heart leaps up to utter thanks, and bless
Our earth which bears sweet flowers, and the glad face
Of these unwearied waters--thanks to them
For brief, intense, bright moments when we see
Our life stand clear in joy, we kiss the hem
Of God's robe in a rapture, and are whole--
On wind-swept hill-tops, by the mystery
Of ocean on still morns, or when the soul
Springs to the lark in a fine ecstasy.