Songs from the Sun, Songs from the ground,

Songs from the ... stars,

Songs, { fine souls of the body of sound,

... ghosts of songs that died,

Beat million-rhythmed in the heart of my hearing,

It appears that if I were perfect, I could not be perfect.

For with whoever is perfect, there is nothing more to be done.

But if there were nothing more to do, I would be very sorry: that is, I would not be perfect.

Therefore it appears that I would not be perfect if I were perfect.

We know more than we know.

That the Lord is all, I know:

That I am part, I know.

But how shall we settle our provinces and diplomacies and boundaries, the Lord and I?

Let us talk of this matter, dear Lord, I talking in silence.

But the corruption, the rascality, the &c., &c.,

But the stock broker, the whiskey ring,

Nay, but the war in the East,

I see God about his godly affairs,

The cat-bird sits in the tree and sings

While the boy kills the &c. beneath.