Classic Poem

In nature's paid discernment
Quick and as steady still
As a bird or a beast of the grassment,
The poet learns his will,
Not by learning, not in obedience — but to fulfil.

And all he sees or hears
Will teach him, if he never
Lie in his reverence, for
Affection pays itself ever,
May go far on without chart or friend or cares.

If he know the song of the lark,
Rudely, as a brat calls it,
And the dawn, and water's teasing spark
Rushing in flood-time, and leaves' look
Week by week the year through it —
He will not harm book nor bark
But love, with lack, and golden truth, while devil spoils it.