When the dawn winds whisper br To the standing corn, br And the rose of morning br From the dark is born, br All my shadowy garden br Seems to grow aware br Of a fragrant presence, br Half expected there. br br In the golden shimmer br Of the burning noon, br When the birds are silent br And the poppies swoon, br Once more I behold her br Smile and turn her face, br With its infinite regard, br Its immortal grace.