The bed embrace, the childing pain,
The sound of music heard afar,
The breathing grass, the broken sod,
The sun, the moon, the twilight star—
Do all proclaim the mind of God.
Then why should I, who am but clay,
Think otherwise, or answer nay?
[LIKE A TUFT OF CEANABHAN]
Like a tuft of ceanabhan
Blowing in the wind