Out of the cradle endlessly rocking

Out of the cradle endlessly rocking

Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle

Out of the Ninth-month midnight

Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child

leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, barefoot

Down from the shower'd halo

Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they

were alive