"For was not God my gardener And silent like a slave;That opened oaks on the uplands Or thicket in graveyard gave?
"And was not God my armourer, All patient and unpaid,That sealed my skull as a helmet And ribs for hauberk made?
"Did not a great grey servant Of all my sires and me,Build this pavilion of the pines,And herd the fowls and fill the vines,And labour and pass and leave no signs Save mercy and mystery?
"For God is a great servant And rose before the day,From some primordial slumber torn;But all things living later bornSleep on, and rise after the morn, And the Lord has gone away.
"On things half sprung from sleeping, All sleepy suns have shone;They stretch stiff arms, the yawning trees,The beasts blink upon hands and knees,
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