No, I have borne in mind this hill, For once before I came its way In hours when summer held her breath Above her innocents at play; Knew the leaves deepening the green ground With their green shadows, there as still And perfect as leaves stand in air; The bird who takes delight in sound Giving his young and watery call, That is each time as if a fall Flashed silver and were no more there. And knew at last, when day was through, That sky in which the boughs were dipped More thick with stars than fields with dew; And in December brought to mind The laughing child to whom they gave Among these slopes, upon this grass, The summer-hearted name of love. Still can you follow with your eyes, Where on the green and gilded ground The dancers will not break the round, The beechtrunks carved of moonlight rise; Still at their roots the violets burn Lamps whose flame is soft as breath. But turn not so, again, again, They clap me in their wintry chain; I know the land whereto you turn, And know it for a land of death.
Note: The title is from Goethe's "Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blΓΌhn?" (Know you the land where the lemon-trees bloom?").