Classic Poem

How can there be
Dearth of divinity
Whiles that we have resurgence of the sod,—
The quickened clod,
The flowering dogwood-rod,—
That yields the gold of such rich treasury
To the adventurous bee!

In shower and shine,
In muted pine tops or in boughs that breathe
Raptures of choric tone,
In ferns that wreathe
The stricken bole or moss-incrusted stone,
In the swift pulses of the stream,
In star-gleam or moon-gleam,
In cloud and storm,
In nature multifold and multiform,
Lo, if ye heed, ye may behold the sign
Of the Divine!