There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me:
When, as if its sound were causing
The charmed ocean's pausing,
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming:
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep;
Whose breast is gently heaving,
As an infant's asleep;
So the spirit bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee;
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
the cannonball tree:
blooms bright & intricate,
but never delicate.
the heron stares at
the unwitting egret’s back:
unfond of flatmate?
a bare tree,
beside the stream,
sent leaves to the sea:
how far did they get?
"beyond eye & mind."
Why make so much of fragmentary blue
In here and there a bird, or butterfly,
Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,
When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?
Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet) ---
Though some savants make earth include the sky;
And blue so far above us comes so high,
It only gives our wish for blue a whet.
Many particles to the atom,
Many atoms to the molecule,
Many molecules to the cell,
Many cells to the tissue,
Many tissues to the organ,
Many organs to the system,
Many systems to the organism...
And so it goes,
The many always viewable as
a larger ONE.
stormy winter day:
seafoam sizzles, its sound lost
to wind and waves.
Cold, wet leaves
Floating on moss-coloured water
And the croaking of frogs --
Cracked bell-notes in the twilight.
Spring flows:
frigid and silt gray --
rush down the mountain.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 