Like oxeye daisies of the field

Like oxeye daisies of the field,
The stars their countless numbers yield
In this pure sky of depth unfathomed,
Wherein they lay, and so deep, concealed.

Gardens of light, environed fair
With tremulous bloom of azure, where
All-sweet star-buds unroll their glories
In silent dews of etherial air!

O Tiller of the fields of heaven,
Gardener of space, by day and even
The circling earth, a once fair garden,
Lifts up its face for Thy promise given.