Some things can go just anywhere, but not so beauty,
    Which has a single place where it’s essentially right.
How lucky I am, then, in having found both together, now:
     This northern land, this girl, slender and befreckled.
She is a birch tree in my arms, laughing in sunny breezes,
     Or a little trout brought up glistening from a stream.
To hold her’s to hold this land, and to walk this land’s
     To have her spirit in all things that are under heaven.