I wake and hearing it raining. br Were I dead, what would I give br Lazily to lie here, br Like this, and live? br br Or better yet: birdsong, br Brightening and spreading -- br How far would I come then br To be at the world's wedding? br br Now that I lie, though, br Listening, living, br (Oh, but not forever, br Oh, end arriving) br br How shall I praise them: br All the sweet beings br Eternally that outlive br Me and my dying? br br Mountains, I mean; wind, water, air; br Grass, and huge trees; clouds, flowers, br And thunder, and night. br br Turtles, I mean, and toads; hawks, herons, owls; br Graveyards, and towns, and trout; roads, gardens, br Red berries, and deer. br br Lightning, I mean, and eagles; fences; snow; br Sunrise, and ferns; waterfalls, serpents, br Green islands, and sleep. br br Horses, I mean; butterflies, whales; br Mosses, and stars and gravelly br Rivers, and fruit. br br Oceans, I mean; black valleys; corn; br Brambles, and cliffs; rock, dirt, dust, ice; br And warnings of flood. br br How shall I name them? br And in what order? br Each would be first. br Omission is murder. br br Maidens, I mean, and apples; needles; leaves; br Worms, and planers, and clover; whirlwinds; dew; br Bulls; geese -- br br Stop. Lie still. br You will never be done. br Leave them all there. br Old lover. Live on.