The homely cricket gossips at my feet.
From far-off pools and wastes of reeds I hear,
Clear and soft-piped, the chanting frogs break sweet
In full Pandean chorus. One by one
Shine out the stars, and the great night comes on.
[THE CLEARER SELF]
Before me grew the human soul,
And after I am dead and gone,
Through grades of effort and control
The marvellous work shall still go on.