Heart of my heart! canst thou hear? canst thou hear?
Awake! it is June; and the violets peer
Where the old acorns lie and the leaves of last year.

Awake! It is I, it is I who have come
To arouse thee, to kiss thee, to guide thy feet home.

I call and I hearken: the twilight is dumb.

O, surely thou hearest my far-reaching cry!
O come and be glad of the grass and the sky
And the greenwood we knew long ago, thou and I!

I cry and I hearken; a little wind stirs
Through the trees: then again the great silence is hers:
And the new moon drops under the silver-tipped firs:

Only, over the hill, on the hillside, I know
That it pauses to watch for a while, ere it go,
The roof of her House where the young grasses grow.