By the dappled trees of heaven, The dancing leaves do sing. The walk upon that bright green floor, That wildflower meadow brings.

O golden sunset time of day, Of tender dusks and fair, The noise of wings I hear so bright The flow’ of voices rare.

Each branch doth call, a beckoning hand, Among the breezy morn A hush, a clamor, calls anew When creatures sweet not born.

By the tress of jeweled greenery The songsters shout so proud, An ode to nature’s simple grace Is lifted to the crowd.

O fresh-glow bulbs of sunlit grace! Bestow a smile perceived. A tapestry of dreams set free, Summoned by all, believed.

• James Joyce