And I have seen it in the gnats that throng Old shadowy forests, in tumultuous dance; Or in the little measuring-worm advance, Inch by slow inch, along the swaying stem Of some exalted flower; or lift the hem Of the frail butterfly’s embroidered cloak In gentle breathings that the sun did stroke Caressingly with fingers of his heat; Or from the dog yearn upward, and entreat With eyes of adoration or of fear The great god, Man--“What message, master dear, From the dim heights beyond me where you are?” In the mare’s tremulous whinny, in the far Lowing of cattle from the upland sward, Or wail of whip-poor-wills, at twilight poured On pools of silence plaintively, or cry Of the lone wolf beneath the glittering sky Of soundless winter, I have heard the same Splendor speak forth, and utter the one name Of Life, the dreadful, the magnificent. All afternoon the passion of heaven spent On earth its fiery fury in blind, bright Lightnings of dread and laughters of delight Down shuddering deeps of shaken thunder, where The delirious longing loosed its sorrowing hair Of wind and shower and overshadowing cloud Across the belovèd face, in darkness bowed Or glimmering light revealed; and cried aloud For anger of utter ecstasy; and shed The wild love of the rushing rain that sped To the thrilled heart, consenting, of the dim And rapturous earth, that lifted up to him Drowsed lips of thirsty flowers; and the cup Of every flower for joy was lifted up, And drank, and swayed! So, wearied out at length, Flagged the bright pulses, and the ebbing strength, With muttering of remembered thunders, passed Down the large shores of evening: till at last The exhausted heaven of twilight from afar Shone washed of all her sorrows; and a star Brooded above the fading storm, and saw The winnowed reaches deepening into awe Of gradual darkness, and the fields that lay All drenched and wearied out at dusk of day And the worn end of things; while far away The receding fury moaned.