Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.

Rats They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles. Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.

God is seen God In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the soul and the clod.

What's the earth With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?

Good to forgive, Best to forget.

What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.

Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.