Pluck, pluck the blossoms, full of grace, And delve into the soil below, For every thought in nature’s place Is rooted deep, as heartbeats flow.
The golden bloom and greenest blades, Yet simple things make laughter last, So under trees, where truth pervades, And binds the future with the past.
To stand beside the rushing stream, And watch the waters plunge away, Is to find life within the dream, To see the world in disarray.
- AE Housman