Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;
They toil not, neither do they spin:
And yet I say unto you,
That even Solomon in all his glory
Was not arrayed like one of these.

Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field,
Which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven,
Shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

Let this song announce to all space: Nature does not seek gain, nor fear
To say ‘thy will is art!’
Shall it not pass with folded light
To thee, wherever the fall is.

Dust dance, let leaf take
Resignation and trust within and breathe;
So is life spun
To crown itself in symphonic reign!

• Gerard Manley Hopkins