I the deep violet air, br Not a leaf is stirred; br There is no sound heard, br But afar, the rare br Trilled voice of a bird. br br Is the wood's dim heart, br And the fragrant pine, br Incense, and a shrine br Of her coming. Apart, br I wait for a sign. br br What the sudden hush said, br She will hear, and forsake, br Swift, for my sake, br Her green, grassy bed: br She will hear and awake! br br She will hearken and glide, br From her place of deep rest, br Dove-eyed, with the breast br Of a dove, to my side: br The pines bow their crest. br br I wait for a sign: br The leaves to be waved, br The tall tree-tops laved br In a flood of sunshine, br This world to be saved! br br In the deep violet air, br Not a leaf is stirred; br There is no sound heard, br But afar, the rare br Trilled voice of a bird.