The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my thoughts’ the sap that rises in me And its root goes down

And leads me to the grave.

The glassy creek, the dancing trees, The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Is the target of the mind of man Who measures all that is,

In sacred numbers, and a twinkling star.

• Dylan Thomas