Did we recognize the Son

For he, he did come

But did we recognize the Son

In the starving mob

And in the aborted blob

~

In the dying child

And in the mother's cries, wild

In the enemy's face

Or the anemone's grace

~

In the wild flowers

And the wide open bowers.

All life comes about

Out of nature's lack of doubt

~

For the sun does rise

On the ignorant and wise

On the great mountains

And the descending fountains.

~

But will the sunset

On knowledge without regret,

If we never come

To see everything as one.

~