A shadow of a great rock, Is a felt thing: soft springs, Run in such cool ascent, And from their depths, we glean Life’s hidden pathways, whence Sweet brooks do follow in keen. Through every solace given, The sigh of every tree Brings forth a resurrection Of what once fell in me, And in the dance of leaves, A throb of Earth’s own heart, Where life in every breath, And with each fleeting part, All rest from endless walks, And grow in nature’s art.

• Elizabeth Barrett Browning