GRATITUDE
Grateful—ah, yes!
I, who have seen
The larches brighten green,
The orchard’s Easter dress,
And those red thousand poppies,
In wheat below the coppice:
I, who (while others lie in graves
Of earth, or rocked with waves),
Have leave to walk
And sing and talk,
With golden lads and girls,
My friends,
To all the farthest ends,
Whither Life whirls....
How can I not feel gratitude for this
And other bliss,
Which God—dear God—hath sent,
For my great wonderment?