This is the grass your feet are planted on. br You paint it orange or you sing it green, br But you have never found br A way to make the grass mean what you mean. br br A cloud can be whatever you intend: br Ostrich or leaning tower or staring eye. br But you have never found br A cloud sufficient to express the sky. br br Get out there with your splendid expertise; br Raymond who cuts the meadow does not less. br Inhuman nature says: br Inhuman patience is the true success. br br Human impatience trips you as you run; br Stand still and you must lie. br It is the grass that cuts the mower down; br It is the cloud that swallows up the sky.