Interleaves
Green Things Growing
“Oh, the fluttering and the pattering of those green things growing!
How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;”
“Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;”
“... Lean against a streamlet’s rushy banks,
And watch intently Nature’s gentle doings;
They will be found softer than ringdoves’ cooings.”
“Dear, tell them, that if eyes were made for seeing,
Then beauty is its own excuse for being.”
“They know the time to go!
The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour
In field and woodland, and each punctual flower
Bows at the signal an obedient head
And hastes to bed.”
“If so the sweetness of the wheat
Into my soul might pass,
And the clear courage of the grass.”
“Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies;
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower—but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.”