Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and bodies' pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam;
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour, the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; --
All these have been my loves.
From "The Great Lover," 1914.