I Love Being a Diver

I love being a diver

Into a ocean of a ocean of healing

Freshening each lean murmur daily with its mouth

About the dreadful settles of the changeless peace.

We see the pleasant pictures in a pleasant wind,

Cooling the flowers in our dreary repose;

Behold the bloom of the roses of the orange,

Its golden warm glow over the sacred flowers!

Yet the flowers are beautiful upon that shore,

Rare even the ancient radiance of the pines,

Bearing in these secret sunsets by pomp and pond,

Shining and beautiful in either world-wide eyes,

Over the great pictures whence the heavenly grace

Shines on the sunset with a glorious token,

Crown the naked spirit with its golden morrow.

Thanksgiving day upon thy altar circle lay,

Making with common altars thy eternal snow.

Release the natural atmosphere, for thou friend

Revive with the flower the witness of the whole.

Evermore through every valley hidden fog,

Holds the great mountains with an awful mystery.

Southward along the ancient slope of wasting wild,

Shattering its silence with the dazzling balm;

While the calm western herdsman of a boding bird

Rose on the quiet blue before the sunset air;

Beside the alien landscape, dreamed the meadow.