Among the groves where the wild things dwell,
I wander lightly on earth’s great breast;
In the whispering woods, I hear the spell
Of nature’s secrets, as I find my rest.

The owls hoot low, the crickets sing,
While the moon drapes silver on leaf and thorn;
In this tranquility, my heart takes wing,
As I am reborn in the hush of morn.

• Ruth Dallas