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KINDRED
TENDER grass in April springing,
Scent of lilacs wet with rain,
Bluebird jubilantly singing
Snatches of a loved refrain,
Falcon soaring high above me,
Light of stars in deeps divine,
Creeping earth-bound things that move me
To compassion, ye are mine!
Wind in varied cadence playing
Mystic runes on harps unseen,
Blossom hardily delaying
Where lost summer late hath been,
Shadow drifting o'er the mountain,
Mist blown inward from the sea,
Hidden spring and bubbling fountain,—
Ye are mine and parts of me!
What am I? The stars have made me,
And the dust to which I cleave,
Rivers, and the hills that aid me,
Past and future, morn and eve,
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