H .
0 . Meredith .
How
should
the
world
or
sea
or
land
The senseless
grass
,
the
unthinking
beast
,
Reach up
to
God
?
How
understand
What links the greatest
with
the
least
?
Or how
should
God
,
who throws afar
Time
's
weft
across
the warp
of
space
,
Who
communes
not with
any
star
,
Nor
the
sun
's
radiance
finds
his face
,
Stoop
and observe
a
spinning ball
His hand
in
one
slight moment
twirled
,
Half
idly
sundering
from
the
All
That last least
particle
,
the world
?
Man
's
flesh
is
rooted
in
the
ground
,
Whose
mind
,
yet
,
reaching
up
the
sky
Far beyond
scope
of
light
or
sound
Commerces
with
infinity
.
Child
of
the
earth
,
man
loves the womb
That
bore
,
the breasts that gave
him
food
:
Nor all
too
much
resents
the
doom
Which
brings
to
dust
earth
's
myriad
brood
.
Yet
child
of
God
,
man
greatly
shares
Each
thought
each
passion
of
his
sire
,
And
all
the brash
of
earthly
cares
Consumes
in
elemental
fire
.
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