One, That Who Wants To See,
His Left And Right And Feels
What Dwells All ‘Round?
In Motion And Quiet Has All The Bliss,
That Comes From Heavenly Toils,
In Boundless Nature’s Love Of Moistened Soils
Yet, Things So Lightly Coloured,
Or Thickly Veiled Too Small In Shape,
And Size Or Widely Swelled
Are Full Of Secret Hands,
So Soft, But Sound That Looks Like
Complex-Composed Unknown Worlds
Quite Formless, Selfless, In Form,
Self That He’s Unfolds Him Leaf By Leaf,
From Ceaseless Crease