Classic Poem

Here that wide Presence, which in open ways
Diffuses in the glare of common things,
Drowned in the tumult of our temporal days,
Lost in the stress of selfish clamorings,
Regains its Being in the eternal hush;
Gathers in close communion with the trees,
Whispers in thrilling messages that rush
In full recovered rapture on the breeze.

Listen—and you can hear it singing fine
In threadlike melody along the leaves
Look—and it leaps in light upon the vine,
Or drips in magic from invisible eaves
Here throbs the heart that underlies the world,
Its pulses naked to the leaning breast,
Here stream the primal mysteries, unfurled,
Here are creation's yearnings full confessed.