No rocks or waters marked the hours of time.
Yet look again; behold the grass-clad hills,
Dew-spangled, multitudinous with rills,
Yet lifeless still: no reason and no sight,
That in these many glories know delight.
Yet look again; field-beasts and birds of sky
Range woods and glades mere hunger to supply;
And time rolls onward, rocks grow old and gray,
And Nature’s face is wrinkled with decay.
Yet look again; Creation’s fullness past,