Here is no shadow-world. A boat
is free and clear upon the lovely water.
In the new all-about sky faraway birds
gather; descend and wheel; climb and vanish.
What light what opening what waking instant
is here? And when the shadows come they shall be
such as join the waters to the sky
and bring down heaven upon capable Earth.
In the soft-breath thrill a bell is ringing
as if a flowerbell shaken by the wind,
as if a leaf-bell uttered by a full branch,
as if a bell made of the foam of sea.
What intricacies of life what lovely event
each day, of evening? As sleep comes and goes
and breath, and thought, and years, so shall Creation
shape in his own tall light a four-months’ child.