'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 you!--
Infinitely innocent.