And were I, then, a single seed of all the millions in the field,
You, a gentle raindrop from the sky,
And as you fall upon my breast and
Waken me from my long rest,
In that moment, by the old gods blessed,
Oh, you and I, truly one.
And were you, then, the last wild leaf on an autumn bough,
I, the wind, a wanton thief, blow as I blow now,
And if you’d fall as fall you must,
And I to be the waiting dust,
Free from sorrow, pain, or lust,
And lie, forever, truly one.