I am by nature thus complete,
In afternoon's full, ripest gold,
As gusts rub leaves of erstwhile green.
Remote and tasty fruit so sweet,
Earth, water, air, and fire I hold
As I contain the infinite.
‘Tis light I ooze, I gild the dark place cold;
Scent I transmit: and shadows reek of God;
Sound I effuse: deep music travels broad;
I filter taste: the clump consumes my soul,
As I enjoy the touch of solitude.
Supreme of treasures, roundly dense
As a clean iris, I observe
From actions’ center. All this I am.
The all which is oblivion’s brim;
The all sufficing yet still served
By what remains ambition hence.