Here, by this pool, where herons stand and wait,
In quietness I cannot imitate:
Where Dawn and Sunset fling with reckless hand
A bounty that I cannot understand:
Where little things of fur and claw and scale,
With careless scorn put me beyond the pale,
And the rapt silence broken by their stir
Wraps closer round the restless worshipper;
Here, to this place of wonderment and peace,
With hurried steps, impatient, ill-at-ease,
I come to shed this ceaseless strife that mars
Even the beauty of the changeless stars:
And I return, undaunted, calm, and slow,
Careless of how I move, or where I go,
With benediction of this solitude,
Not understanding God, but -- understood.
