The infinite sky overhead
And on the horizon
The infinite sea.
Green billowing grass for my bed—
At last I am out of my prison
And free!
An insect creeps over my page,
An infinite mite
With all life folded under its wings.
I am of no sex, of no age,
Here out of sight
Of the world, all alone with God's infinite things.
Oh, the world of small leafage
Peopling the bank where I lean,
And the one white daisy
With its wisdom of things supernal.
They live out their brief age,
Brief but eternal,
And time itself recedes and grows hazy
In this little infinite world of green.
Behind me the copse
Like a round cup dips
Filled with a pool of soft shadows,
And to me in the meadows
One shy bird-voice from the tree-top drips
And into the hollow of shadows it melts and drops.
They are all around me
And all above me,
Half-seen, half-heard,
Flower and leaf and insect and bird,
Wild, timid creatures,
Simple and friendly and shy;
And so still I lie
Where they have found me
That I think in time they may learn to love me,
For they are Nature's
And so am I.
One by one she unfolds each feature,
The Infinite Mother
To her child.
There was a new bird-call,
And there was another!
I too shall learn to grow simple and shy and wild ...
Only Nature and Nature and nothing but Nature,
And I alone in the heart of it all.