Guerdon

To field and forest

The gifts of the spring,

To hawk and to heron

The pride of their wing;

Her grace to the panther,

Her tints to the dove. . .

For me, O my Master,

The rapture of Love!

To the hand of the diver

The gems of the tide,

To the eyes of the bridegroom

The face of his bride;

To the heart of a dreamer

The dreams of his youth. . .

For me, O my Master,

The rapture of Truth!

To priests and to prophets

The joy of their creeds,

To kings and their cohorts

The glory of deeds;

And peace to the vanquished

And hope to the strong. . . .

For me, O my Master,

The rapture of Song!