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| OH, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; | |
| And give us not to think so far away | |
| As the uncertain harvest; keep us here | |
| All simply in the springing of the year. | |
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| Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, | 5 |
| Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; | |
| And make us happy in the happy bees, | |
| The swarm dilating round the perfect trees. | |
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| And make us happy in the darting bird | |
| That suddenly above the bees is heard, | 10 |
| The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, | |
| And off a blossom in mid air stands still. | |
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| For this is love and nothing else is love, | |
| The which it is reserved for God above | |
| To sanctify to what far ends He will, | 15 |
| But which it only needs that we fulfil. | |
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