In the Blumenthal, Mürren

We are the sun’s first couriers, and we know
        What grass shall clothe the mountain and the
        What flowers shall bless the children of the poor,
And set the humblest cottage rooms aglow;
Here, long before the herdsmen open throw
        Their chalet windows and the frost-browned
        We people with white multitudes the floor,
And push our tender spear-heads through the snow.

And mortals, straying to our upland home,
    Where no bees murmur yet and no birds sing,
        Have marvelled at our boldness, and have said,
        ‘How are these gentle creatures unafraid?’—
They have not learned that from God’s hand we come
    To speed with joy His message of the spring.

(Sonnets in Switzerland and Italy, p. 97)