I.
an Empty sky, a world of heather,
  Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom:
We two among them wading together,
  Shaking out honey, treading perfume.

Crowds of bees are giddy with clover,
  Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet:
Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,
  Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.

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