Just a raindrop loitering earthward,
All alone,
Leaves a tiny “telltale story”
In the stone.
Gravel tossed by teasing water,
Down the hill,
Shows where once in merry laughter
Flowed a rill.
In the coal bed dark and hidden,
Ferns (how queer!)
Left a message plainly saying,
“We’ve been here!”
You may see where tiny ripples,
On the sands,
Leave a history written by their
Unseen hands.
Why, the oak trees, by their bending,
Clearly show
The direction playful winds blew
Years ago!
So our _habits_ tell us, little
Maids and men,
What the history of our whole past
Life has been!