GOD sowed the lightning and there grew a soul.
That soul is thou.
God scattered thunder, and the thunder roll
Is in thine utterance now.
My heart is full of lovely words--
Poor, little, helpless, huddled things;
Like a nest full of singing birds,
With broken wings.
Thy lips bewitch the waves of light
And make a red rose of a white;
And silent tides of air transform
Into a surging music-storm.
A crumbling crag, all crevices and caves,
Where birds and bats have homes, and gods have graves.
Like a white lily swaying in the wind,
So rooted, yet so restless is thy mind;
And thy high soul is like a burning star,
So steadfast and so swift, so instant and so far.
