The Grace of the Ground

by John Vance Cheney

John Vance Cheney


To-day I stretch me on the shadowed grass,

And hear my heart say yet again to me,

" Fly with the birds, and let the spent world be.

Float, float, " it says, " with lightest things that pass,

Leap with the gauze-winged vaulters; glass to glass,

Drink with the bees; go with the gentle throng

Deep ever, lost, in revel sweet and long,

The nearest, happiest children Nature has. "

And once again I quit the wanton round

Of mockery, straight betake me to the ground.


Wherever a green blade looks up,

A leaf lisps mystery,

Whereso a blossom holds its cup

A mist rings land or sea,

Wherever voice doth utter sound

Or silence make her round, —

There worship; it is holy ground.

Last updated September 07, 2017