Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies! O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there! - Gerard Manley Hopkins

I am soft sift 25 In an hourglass — at the wall Fast, but mined with a motion, a drift, And it crowds and it combs to the fall; I steady as a water in a well, to a poise, to a pane, But roped with, always, all the way down from the tall 30 Fells or flanks of the voel, a vein Of the gospel proffer, a pressure, a principle, Christ’s gift.

No one is ever so poor that he is not (without prejudice to all the rest of the world) owner of the skies and stars and everything wild that is to be found on the earth.

I bear a basket lined with grass;
I am so light, I am so fair,
That men must wonder as I pass
And at the basket that I bear,
Where in a newly-drawn green litter
Sweet flowers I carry, — sweets for bitter.

Lilies I shew you, lilies none,
None in Caesar’s gardens blow, — And a quince in hand, — not one
Is set, because their buds not spring;
Spring not, ‘cause world is wintering....