UNDERWORLD
Here lie I in the underworld of trees,
Over my head I have a wave of leaves
Through whose loose shimmering weave of mysteries
The rays of heaven come in yellow sheaves
Till every leaf is like an amber lamp
Lit at the very source of golden light;
The netted green has drawn the sun's own stamp
And myriad tiny suns are in my sight,
While such a radiant harmony, on wings
I hear but see not, seems my world to throng
I could believe the only voice that sings
Is of the leafage sparkling into song.
To-day within my soul I may contain
As much melodic light as one fine leaf
Receives from heaven and gives out again
Into an underworld grown dim with grief.