Penetralia

I am a part of all you see In Nature; part of all you feel: I am the impact of the bee Upon the blossom; in the tree I am the sap,--that shall reveal The leaf, the bloom,--that flows and flutes Up from the darkness through its roots.

I am the vermeil of the rose, The perfume breathing in its veins; The gold within the mist that glows Along the west and overflows The heaven with light; the dew that rains Its freshness down and strings with spheres Of wet the webs and oaten ears.

I am the egg that folds the bird, The song that beaks and breaks its shell; The laughter and the wandering word The water says; and, dimly heard, The music of the blossom’s bell When soft winds swing it; and the sound Of grass slow-creeping o’er the ground.

I am the warmth, the honey-scent That throats with spice each lily-bud That opens, white with wonderment, Beneath the moon; or, downward bent, Sleeps with a moth beneath its hood: I am the dream that haunts it too, That crystallizes into dew.

I am the seed within its pod; The worm within its closed cocoon: The wings within the circling clod, The germ that gropes through soil and sod To beauty, radiant in the noon: I am all these, behold! and more-- I am the love at the world-heart’s core.