Amidst the far, and flowering brush,
Dwelt a place, where,
While we were much older,
Still had we remained children
At purest heart.
The fair aroma reconciled my passion-
The constant burning in my soul
Which I had long forsaken.
There it swelled, and my heart,
While it remained volcanic,
And while the blossoms of the field
Were very well endowed,
In childhood hour,
While my spirit still dwelled,
In the passing hour, I did not.