Hedges that boast defended fields,
And green seclusions proud of shields;
Great open deserts in the sky,
Cool icebergs slowly riding by
In the unruffled sea of blue;
Branches that let the sun pass through,
The cuckoo and the ecstatic lark,
Shadows that play at being dark—
In every leaf and stem and flower
There throbs a kindly, silent power,