vines. 
    I pray with mosses, ferns and flowers shy
    That hide like gentle nuns from human eye,
    To lift adoring odors to the sky. 
  I hear faint bridal-sighs of blissful green,
  Dying to kindred silences serene,
  As dim lights melt into a pleasant sheen. 
    I start at fragmentary whispers, blown
    From undertalks of leafy loves unknown,
    Vague purports sweet, of inarticulate tone.

  Dreaming of gods, men, nuns and brides, between
  Old companies of oaks that inward lean
  To join their radiant amplitudes of green,
    I slowly move, with ranging looks that pass
    Up from the matted miracles of grass
  Into yon veined complex of space,
  Where sky and leafage interlace
    So close the heaven of blue is seen
    Inwoven with a heaven of green.

  I wander to the zigzag-cornered fence
  Where sassafras, intrenched in brambles dense,
  Contests with stolid vehemence
    The march of culture, setting limb and thorn,
    Like pikes, against the army of the corn.

  There, while I pause, before mine eyes,
  Out of the silent corn-ranks, rise
        Inward dignities
  And large benignities and insights wise,
        Graces and modest majesties. 
    Thus, without tilth, I house a wondrous yield;
    Thus, without theft, I reap another’s field,
    And store quintuple harvests in my heart concealed.

  See, out of line a single corn-stem stands
  Advanced beyond the foremost of his bands,
    And waves his blades upon the very edge
    And hottest thicket of the battling hedge. 
  Thou lustrous stalk, that canst nor walk nor talk,
    Still dost thou type the poet-soul sublime
    That leads the vanward of his timid time,
    And sings up cowards with commanding rhyme—­
  Soul calm, like thee, yet fain, like thee, to grow
  By double increment, above, below;
    Soul homely, as thou art, yet rich in grace like thee,
    Teaching the yeomen selfless chivalry,
    That moves in gentle curves of courtesy;
  Soul filled like thy long veins with sweetness tense,
        By every godlike sense
  Transmuted from the four wild elements. 
          Toward the empyrean
    Thou reachest higher up than mortal man,
  Yet ever piercest downward in the mould,
        And keepest hold
    Upon the reverend and steadfast earth
        That gave thee birth. 
  Yea, standest smiling in thy very grave,
        Serene and brave,
    With unremitting breath
    Inhaling life from death,
  Thine epitaph writ fair in fruitage eloquent,
        Thy living self thy monument.

          As poets should,
  Thou hast built up thy hardihood
  With wondrous-varying food,
    Drawn in select proportion fair
    From solid mould and vagrant air;
  From terrors of the dreadful night,