And he who follows where her footsteps lead,
By hill and rock, by forest-side and stream,
Shall glimpse the glory of her visible dream,
In flower and fruit, in rounded nut and seed:
She in whose path the very shadows gleam;
Whose humblest weed
Seems lovelier than _June's_ loveliest flower, indeed,
And sweeter to the smell
Than _April's_ self within a rainy dell.