ONLY the foam made rainbows

In that cloudless land,

Where no storm or stain shows

Enmities at hand.

Under the blue blue ocean

Sealed in a pearl-white grot

Singers of heart's devotion

Frame song-ways to that spot.

Flowers are not more fragrant

Than the incense of their strain ;

The whispering currents vagrant

Sift their golden grain.

They've a tune of the silver fretting

Of love's first eager dawn,

And a rune of sun's outward setting

In fields of deathless corn

Where each poppy's a flaming token

Of all that the world denies

And a cornflower in sapphire has spoken

Of fathomless skies.