God, you’ve so much to do,

To think of, watch and listen to,

That I will let all else go by

And lending ear and eye

Help you to watch how in the combe

Winds sweep dead leaves without a broom;

And rooks in the spring-reddened trees

Restore their villages,

Nest by dark nest

Swaying at rest on the trees’ frail unrest;

Or on this limestone wall,

Leaning at ease, with you recall

How once these heavy stones

Swam in the sea as shells and bones;

And hear that owl snore in a tree

Till it grows dark enough for him to see;

In fact, will learn to shirk

No idleness that I may share your work.