Or at the end of a corrupting calm,

But oftentimes anticipates and, entering flowers and trees

Upon a hillside or along the brink

Of streams, encounters instances

Of its eventual enterprise:

Inhabits the enclosing clay,

In rhapsody is caught away

On a great tide

Of beauty, to abide

Translated through the night and day

Of time and, by the anointing balm

Of earth, to outgrow decay.

Hark in the wind—the word of silent lips!

Look where some subtle throat, that once had wakened lust,

Lies clear and lovely now, a silver link

Of change and peace!

Hollows and willows and a river-bed,

Anemones and clouds,

Raindrops and tender distances

Above, beneath,

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