CXLVIII: From reeds I gain the Sun's love secondsale

But yesterday I said something that’s wrong:

the reeds are not much better than the Sun.

It took a bit, but after not too long

I saw what Epimethean thing I’d done.

I wrote a loveless word against the skies,

and doted river-dewy reeds below.

But I’ve forgotten what nature belies:

that separate things are rarely ever so.

The reeds are not so separate from the Sun.

They joy themselves in what He has to bring.

If I should joy in what they’ve, from Him, won,

so then should I not also Sunward sing?

If I must praise one element of God,

I must ask if the others are its sod.