Our life-long neighbours, flower, vine-leaf, fruit

Our life-long neighbours, flower, vine-leaf, fruit,

they do not merely speak the season's speech.

These things so brightly manifest, that reach

from darkness, gleam, it may be, with the mute

envy of those through whom the earth grows strong.

What do we know about the part they play?

To mix their unused marrow \vith the clay

has been their second-nature for so long.

But do they do it of their own accords?

Is it by sullen slaves that these clenched fruits

are laboured and thrust forth to us, their lords?

Are they the lords, who sleep beside the roots,

and grant us, what their plenty never misses,

this middle-thing, made of dumb strength and kisses?