The songs of mountain-springs,
And those trees that breathe life
Amidst dust,
I owe to them,
Those roads
Which take mind to flutter
And add wings to heart,
That landscape
Where little lines
And rows of blossoms
With blessings
Of woodnymph
Unfurl life
In its pure
And natural symmetry,
I owe to them,
That corporeal frame
Which had made
World ,the finest place,
For generations
To live, to sing,
To put meaning
Into everything,
And that sylvan wanderer of a river,
That had made hundreds
To paint, to ruminate,
To muse words
From depth of a transcendence,
And to feel the tranquil presence
Of the living soul,
Filled with gleams
Of thoughts,
I owe to them,
That sensation
Of equating rhythm
With the passage of seasons,
That idea ancient and omnipresent,
To be united with that kindred spirit
That binds each and every particle
Animate , inanimate to follow the grandest design,
And make the universe
To move with poetic task,
I owe to them.
Monday, March 24, 2014
I owe to them,
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