I have companioned with the lovely things
and walked with beauty
in the many springs
that I have known. Then in my heart
when autumn winds have shrieked
their lullabies,
I have felt April zephyrs
and watched new tendrils rise.
In winter's sculptured silence--
the artistry of snow--
I have heard beneath earth's crystal crust
the green things grow
and speak in syllables of spring
each lovely thing.
So when I hear my last shrill
autumn wind,
I shall recall a little hill
purpling with violets, and disciplined
by loveliness-recurrent, I shall rest--
like a blown leaf content
on earth's sweet breast--
and wait the wonderment,
the miracle of bird-song ... whirring wings ...
For always, always, there will be
the lovely things.
