Penetralia, by Madison Cawein

  I am a part of all you see
  In Nature; part of all you feel:
  I am the impact of the bee
  Upon the blossom; in the tree
  I am the sap,—that shall reveal
  The leaf, the bloom,—that flows and flutes
  Up from the darkness through its roots.

  I am the vermeil of the rose,
  The perfume breathing in its veins;
  The gold within the mist that glows
  Along the west and overflows
  With light the heaven; the dew that rains
  Its freshness down and strings with spheres
  Of wet the webs and oaten ears.

  I am the egg that folds the bird;
  The song that beaks and breaks its shell;
  The laughter and the wandering word
  The water says; and, dimly heard,
  The music of the blossom's bell
  When soft winds swing it; and the sound
  Of grass slow-creeping o'er the ground.

  I am the warmth, the honey-scent
  That throats with spice each lily-bud
  That opens, white with wonderment,
  Beneath the moon; or, downward bent,
  Sleeps with a moth beneath its hood:
  I am the dream that haunts it too,
  That crystallizes into dew.

  I am the seed within the pod;
  The worm within its closed cocoon:
  The wings within the circling clod,
  The germ, that gropes through soil and sod
  To beauty, radiant in the noon:
  I am all these, behold! and more—
  I am the love at the world-heart's core.