Oh richest of all fertile lands,

Bewitch me with your heady scent,

In your soft and tender hands,

I rest amid your firmament.

 

But resting only makes me rise,

And rising only drives me on,

On into your gentle depths,

On until my strength is gone.

 

And then I stop and catch my breath,

As in your bosom I recline,

And know there in your tenderness,

My heart is yours as yours is mine.

 

Gardener and garden joined,

Entwined both, that we may know,

The joyous reason we aligned,

To plant a seed and watch it grow.