Four Poems, Op. 16: I. Through the Upland Meadows

I go alone.

For I dreamed of someone last night Who is waiting for me.

Flower and blossom, tell me, do you know of her? Have the rocks hidden her voice?

They are very blue and still.

Long upward road that is leading me, Lighthearted I quit you,

For the long loose ripples of the meadow grass Invite me to dance upon them.

Quivering grass Daintily poised

For her foot's tripping.

Oh, blown clouds, could I only race up like you,

Oh, the last slopes that are sundrenched and steep!

Look, the sky!

Across black valleys

Rise blue-white aloft

Jagged unwrinkled mountains, ranges of death.

Solitude. Silence.