Bless the meek whispering Heavens;
bless the weak weeping clouds;
bless the winds that seem driven;
by chariots of the South.
Bless the young indignant day;
bless the seeds of sunlight;
bless the proud roses of May;
though they be without might.
Bless the cotton of the fields;
bless the wool that comes forth;
bless the roaring of the seas;
bless her coasts; bless her lot.
Bless the strained arm of Atlas;
lest the balanced Earth falls;
bless the shadow that is cast;
on the tall earthen walls.
Bless the wishes that I make;
bless the blessings I seek;
bless this morning for my sake;
bless those that cannot speak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem