Here Wherein The Meadow Grows Poem by Chris Schleier, Jr.

I see rabbits, mice, and crows

here wherein the meadow grows.

Yet, with wand'ring heart elating

and no syllable debating

of what splendor swells herein:

Let thy eloquence begin!

Splendid lilies, bluest skies,

tell me secrets, speak no lies;

What or whom hath made thee shine

and, with radiance, divine?

What can thou attribute to

thy golden grass, and beauty true?

Marvelous and heaven sent!

Beautiful and elegant!

Here within thy core is felt

summer's cloth of golden felt;

Smooth and gentle on my skin.

Gracious! Glorious! Felt within!

Stay with me, and never stray

holiest and gorgeous day!

Let, with me, thy grace abide:

Fill my hungry heart inside!

I'll, forever, be with thee;

Peaceful, pure serenity!