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| YE morning-glories, ring in the gale your bells, | |
| And with dew water the walk’s dust for the burden-bearing ants: | |
| Ye swinging spears of the larkspur, open your wells of gold | |
| And pay your honey-tax to the hummingbird … | |
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| O now I see by the opening of blossoms, | 5 |
| And of bills of the hungry fledglings, | |
| And the bright travel of sun-drunk insects, | |
| Morning’s business is afoot: Earth is busied with a million mouths! | |
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| Where goes eaten grass and thrush-snapped dragonfly? | |
| Creation eats itself, to spawn in swarming sun-rays … | 10 |
| Bull and cricket go to it: life lives on life … | |
| But O, ye flame-daubed irises, and ye hosts of gnats, | |
| Like a well of light moving in morning’s light, | |
| What is this garmented animal that comes eating and drinking among you? | |
| What is this upright one, with spade and with shears? | 15 |
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| He is the visible and the invisible, | |
| Behind his mouth and his eyes are other mouth and eyes … | |
| Thirster after visions | |
| He sees the flowers to their roots and the Earth back through its silent ages: | |
| He parts the sky with his gaze: | 20 |
| He flings a magic on the hills, clothing them with Upanishad music, | |
| Peopling the valley with dreamed images that vanished in Greece millenniums back; | |
| And in the actual morning, out of longing, shapes on the hills | |
| To-morrow’s golden grandeur … | |
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| O ye million hungerers and ye sun-rays | 25 |
| Ye are the many mothers of this invisible god, | |
| This Earth’s star and sun that rises singing and toiling among you, | |
| This that is I, in joy, in the garden, | |
| Singing to you, ye morning-glories, | |
| Calling to you, ye swinging spears of the larkspur. | 30 |
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