And the leaves,
Brown, resting.
And the birds,
Down, singing.
And the grass,
Grown, greening.
And the mist,
Sown, flying.
And the dog,
Clown, playing.
And the sun,
Crown, giving.
And the boy,
Crowned, smiling.
In here, he says,
There’s no evil.
In here, he cries,
Peace is regal.
That door, he points,
Gives back life.
But reason flees the wardens
Of those who flee these gardens.
From that maiden’s loins
Comes peace, chaste and rife.
Her sacred bosom is shelter
For those lost amidst welter.
She is the child’s mother,
She’s mankind’s glow and thunder.
