HEAVEN'S HARMONY 19 



winter; even that book for stormy evenings Paracelsus 

 fell open at the touch, and we read : 



"Then all is still : earth is a wintry clod ; 

 But spring wind, like a dancing psaltress, passes 

 Over its breast to waken it ; rare verdure 

 Buds tenderly on rough banks, between 

 The withered tree roots and the crack of frost, 

 Like a smile striving with a wrinkled face ; 



Savage creatures seek 



Their loves in wood and plain and God renews 

 His ancient rapture." 



These lines alone should give the poet immortality. 



