Earth's subtle face speaks softly to him,
So deftly she hides her secrets that they
Must speak through their beautiful language of friends;
"What is it," she sighs, "you seek 'midst my winds?"
Oh, show him a carpet of morn soft and moist
Where feet may run painless, bright spirits rejoice,
And let the morn's fragrance be pungent and fresh,
As once when a child he first smelled your soil's breath.
Let fruit trees and healing herbs grace every path,
Beside living waters that sparkled and laugh,
Sequestered amongst flowered plain and treed valley,
Where men search for wisdom, where joyful hearts daily.
And let your harsh deserts turn green and refreshing,
Your winters forever to summer's caressing;
The lion and adder to friendship give reason,
Storms gone, forgotten; rain in due season.
Faith smiled at him, deep secrets abiding
Within her shrewd bosom as precious gems hiding
Their glorious luster for but a short date;
"All these I'll give you, and more...just you wait."