Classic Poem

I thank you, God,
That swallows know their way
In the great sky;
That grass, all brown today,
And dead and dry,
Will quiver in the sun
All green and gay
When Winter's done.

I thank you, God,
That every bare gray bough,
All empty now,
Will feel the thrill
Of honey in the sap
That flows to fill
Each secret way it knows
As the leaf grows.

I thank you, God,
For life that always stirs
In the broad meadow where
Small creatures run and fare
On your good bounty that
Will blossom there—
The little grasshopper,
The cricket and the mouse
That builds her cunning house
Under the roots that weave
A curtain to deceive
The prowling foe;
The blue winged moth and bees,
And rabbits with sleek fur
Brown in the sun—all these
Your bounty know.

I thank you, God,
For Winter's blue white beauty,
And thin ice that gleams
And melts reluctantly
Over black streams
That flow by new green edges
When the Spring
Comes to redeem her pledges.
Everything
And every season passing
Offers praise
Out in your open ways.

Let the grass praise you
With each green tongue.
Let the hills sing as
The stars have done.
I have heard honey bees
Droning slow
A litany of thanks to you
For flowers they know.