'TIS the marvel of existence, This great patience feeding things, Till at last in myriad ages Wakes there one who sees and sings. Through the rifts of tottering temples Shines illimitable day; Men begin to lisp its meaning,-- Self must melt in love away. Never was the green of spring-time Half so beautiful to me As when I beheld it growing Out of deep necessity. A necessity that sightless More than sees the world it makes, Ay, and more than knows the gladness Sinless life in living takes. Name it how you can and care to, Words are vain and language rent, 'Tis too grandly simple for yo!-- Infinitely innocent.