Let clouds drift across the field, As daylight, wondering, yields. From the hilltops, shadows fall, In shades of green, the ancients call.

Misty mornings bring back sight, The scent of earth, the fading light. Where grasses dance and flowers sway, In fleeting moments, we still may stray.

The whispers dwell in every glade, Where sunlight’s warmth will never fade. Each footstep holds the life we lead — In moments still, we find our creed.

• Philip Larkin