Across the sacred heath I step and walk,
Shrubs of words bind my aimless soul, a whole
I breathe in silence, yet my breaths talk
To Thy Holy Ears that know well my goal.
From afar I behold a neat bright tree
That to my senses talks with great reasons,
I see it nearing, as if sailing free
As if it knows no roots, and no seasons.
I welcome those fruits of delicious look
Which locks my eyes, towards that deep red
And haunts my sweet desires, as a hook
That no human can escape its firm thread.
Forgive me if by body or by thought,
Away from Thy Face, my pleasure I sought.
