She laughed: since our first harvesting heard none Like thunder of the song of heart: her face, The dreadful darkness, shook to mounted sun, And peal on peal across the hills held chase. She laughed herself to water; laughed to fire; Laughed the torrential laugh of dam and sire Full of the marrowy race. Her laughter, Gods! was flesh on skeleton. XIV The valley people huddled, broke, afraid, Assured, and taking lightning in the veins, They puffed, they leaped, linked hands, together swayed, Unwitting happiness till golden rains Of tears in laughter, laughter weeping, smote Knowledge of milky mercy from that throat Pouring to heal their pains: And one bold youth set mouth at a shy maid. XV Iambe clapped to see the kindly lusts Inspire the valley people, still on seas, Like poplar-tops relieved from stress of gusts, With rapture in their wonderment; but these, Low homage being rendered, ran to plough, Fed by the laugh, as by the mother cow Calves at the teats they tease: Soon drove they through the yielding furrow-crusts. XVI Uprose the blade in green, the leaf in red, The tree of water and the tree of wood: And soon among the branches overhead Gave beauty juicy issue sweet for food. O Laughter! beauty plumped and love had birth. Laughter! O thou reviver of sick Earth! Good for the spirit, good For body, thou! to both art wine and bread! EARTH AND A WEDDED WOMAN I THE shepherd, with his eye on hazy South, Has told of rain upon the fall of day. But promise is there none for Susan’s drouth, That he will come, who keeps in dry delay. The freshest of the village three years gone, She hangs as the white field-rose hangs short-lived; And she and Earth are one In withering unrevived. Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! II Ah, what is Marriage, says each pouting maid, When she who wedded with the soldier hides At home as good as widowed in the shade, A lighthouse to the girls that would be brides: Nor dares to give a lad an ogle, nor To dream of dancing, but must hang and moan, Her husband in the war, And she to lie alone. Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! III They have not known; they are not in the stream; Light as the flying seed-ball is their play, The silly maids! and happy souls they seem; Yet Grief would not change fates with such as they. They have not struck the roots which meet the fires Beneath, and bind us fast with Earth, to know The strength of her desires, The sternness of her woe. Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain! And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain! IV