Divinity

All things are mine; to all things I belong:

I mingle in them--heeding bounds nor

bars--

Float in the cloud, melt in the river's song;

In the clear wave from rock to rock I

leap.

Widen away, and slowly onward creep;

I stretch forth glimmering hands beneath

the stars

And lose my little murmur in the deep.

Yea, more than that: whatever I behold--

Dark forest, mountain, the o'erarching

wheel

Of heaven's solemn turning, all the old

Immeasurable air and boundless sea--

Yields of its life, builds life and strength

in me

For tasks to come, while I but see and feel,

And merely am, and it is joy to be.

Lo, that small spark within us is not blind

To its beginning; struck from one vast 

soul

Which, in the framework of the world, doth

bind

All parts together; small, but still agree-

ing

With That which molded us without our

seeing;

Since God is all, and all in all--the Whole

In whom we live and move and have

our being.

Samuel V. Cole, The Critic.