The winged words, they pass 
 Still everywhere, 
Seeds of the spirit-grass 
 The dream-winds bear 
From that heart-field to this, 
Where thought as feeling is; 
There?s not a seed will miss 
 Life, once sown there. 
 
They pass, the faery words, 
 In shade and shine, 
As they were magic birds 
 This heart of mine 
Gave shape and colour to, 
As in the light and dew 
The primal creatures grew 
 From germs divine.