Did chaos form,—and water, air, and fire, Rocks, trees, the worm, work toward Humanity,— That Man at last, beneath the churchyard spire, Might be once more the worm, the rock, the tree?
Collection:
Genesis
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I found a yellow flower in the grass, A tiny flower with petals like a bell, And yet, methought, more than a flower it was,— More like a miracle. Above, the sky was clear, save where at times Soft-tinted fleeces drifted dreamily, Bearing a benison to sunny climes From altars of the sea....
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Did chaos form,—and water, air, and fire, Rocks, trees, the worm, work toward Humanity,— That Man at last, beneath the churchyard spire, Might be once more the worm, the rock, the tree?
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