| | | I’ve watched the white clouds pantomime |
| | | The inner workings of my mind, |
| | | Where thought and feeling paint a scene |
| | | As if the blue sky were a dream. |
| | | |
| 5 | | I’ve watched the snow-bogged trees bend down |
| | | And shake their coats upon the ground |
| | | In order that they may reclaim |
| | | A straighter truth from whence they came. |
| | | |
| | | I’ve watched the congress of the geese |
| 10 | | Assemble in a perfect V |
| | | In order that they may keep sight |
| | | Of one another’s path of flight. |
| | | |
| | | I’ve watched the flood tide turn its head |
| | | And slack before the coming ebb |
| 15 | | Without want or predilection |
| | | Waiting for the moon’s direction. |
| | | |
| | | I’ve watched the ocean lashed by wind, |
| | | Make a fool of the fishermen, |
| | | Who thought their knowledge of the sea |
| 20 | | Ensured them some security. |
| | | |
| | | But all this watching, knows not much, |
| | | For what are wind and sea and such, |
| | | The V of geese, the bent-down tree, |
| | | If nothing more than mystery? |
