5.
“We may speak much, and yet come short.”
How many coral clusters hang and swing
Upon the mountain ash along the steep,
Which with its blood-red berries seems to weep!
More are they multiplied the more they cling
With roots into the rock from whence they spring;
For nature from her treasures vast and deep
With everlasting sameness loves to creep
Into fresh being; leaflets fluttering
Into new life one impress strive to hold;
Till on one tree, alike though manifold,
All fain would run into the self-same mould.
The flowers that look erect or hang on ground,
The stars that come forth in the blue profound,
So numberless, yet seem alike around.
