Clean winds sweep over it,
Blue sky to cover it,
The sun to give it light
And moon and stars of night;
Jeweled the floor is,
Golden the door is,
Hung all with ‘broideries,
Many-hued, many-wise.
Who would not covet,
Who would not love it?

I love it so-
I love it so
I would not care to know
Another space,
Another sphere,
However fair,
However dear,
Or far or near.
Each leaf my lover is,
Each flower a fragrant bliss;
No bird that wings through it,
No voice that sings to it-
Tree-note, bird, water, all-
But holds me thrall.

Yet He who builded,
Fashioned and gilded,
Guards it and tends it,
But only lends it.
Mine for a single day-
A day and night to stay . . .
If it might be always!