You took the rare blue from my cloudy sky
You shot the one bird in my silent wood
You crushed my rose one rose alone had I
You have not known. You have not understood

I would have shown you pictures I have seen
Of unimagined mountains, plains and seas
I would have made you songs of leafy green
If you had left me some small ecstasies

Now let the one dear field be only field
That was a garden for the mighty gods
Take you its corn. I keep its better yield
The glory that I found within its clods