Page:Poems Tynan.djvu/105

ST. FRANCIS TO THE BIRDS

Little sisters, the birds:
 We must praise God, you and I—
 You, with songs that fill the sky,
I, with halting words.

All things tell His praise,
 Woods and waters thereof sing,
 Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring,
And the night and days.

Yea, and cold and heat,
 And the sun and stars and moon,
 Sea with her monotonous tune,
Rain and hail and sleet,

And the winds of heaven,
 And the solemn hills of blue,
 And the brown earth and the dew,
And the thunder even,

And the flowers' sweet breath.
 All things make one glorious voice;
 Life with fleeting pains and joys,
And our brother, Death.

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