All Nature Yields
Hear me, illustrious! Thy lover me—for always I have loved thee, Even as basking babe—then happy boy alone by some wood edge—thy
touching distant beams enough, Or man matured, or young or old—as now to thee I launch my invocation. (Thou canst not with thy dumbness me deceive. I know before the fitting man all Nature yields. Though answering not in words, the skies, trees, hear his voice—and thou,
O sun, As for thy throes, thy perturbations, sudden breaks and shafts of flame
gigantic, I understand them—I know those flames, those perturbations well.)
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