I never knew the earth had so much gold—

The fields run over with it, and this hill

Hoary and old,

Is young with buoyant blooms that flame and thrill.


Such golden fires, such yellow—lo, how good

This spendthrift world, and what a lavish God!

This fringe of wood,

Blazing with buttercup and goldenrod.


You too, beloved, are changed. Again I see

Your face grow mystical, as on that night

You turned to me,

And all the trembling world—and you—were white.


Aye, you are touched; your singing lips grow dumb;

The fields absorb you, color you entire . . .

And you become

A goddess standing in a world of fire!

Louis Untermeyer, Feuerzauber

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