WEBVTT

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This is a happier poem.

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At least it's a poem in praise.

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It's called "From a Litany."

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It comes after reading a
lot of Christopher Smart

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as you will soon see.

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I've even stolen lines from him.

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"There is an open field I
lie down in a hole I once dug

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and I praise the sky.

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I praise the clouds that
are like lungs of light.

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I praise the owl that
wants to inhabit me

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and the hawk that does not.

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I praise the mouse's fury,
the wolf's consideration.

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I praise the dog that lives
in the household of people

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and shall never be one of them.

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I praise the whale that
lives under the cold blankets

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of salt. I praise the formations
of squid, the domes of meandra.

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I praise the secrecy of doors,
the openness of windows.

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I praise the depth of closets.

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I praise the wind, the
rising generations of air.

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I praise the trees
and whose branches

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shall sit the Cock of
Portugal and the Polish Cock.

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I praise the palm
trees of Rio and those

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that shall grow in London.

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I praise the gardeners, the
worms and the small plants

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that praise each other.

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I praise the sweet berries
of Georgetown, Maine

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and the song of the
white-throated sparrow.

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I praise the poets of Waverly
Place and 11th Street,

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and the one whose bones
turn to dark emeralds

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when he stands
upright in the wind.

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I praise the clocks for
which I grow old in a day

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and young in a day.

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I praise all manner of
shade that which I see

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and that which I do not.

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I praise all roofs
from the watery roof

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of the pond to the slate
roof of the customs house.

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I praise those who have
made of their bodies

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final embassies of flesh.

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I praise the failure
of those with ambition,

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the authors of leaflets
and notebooks of nothing.

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I praise the moon
for suffering men.

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I praise the sun its tributes.

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I praise the pain of revival
and the bliss of decline.

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I praise all for nothing
because there is no price.

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I praise myself for the
way I have with a shovel

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and I praise the shovel.

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I praise the motive of praise
by which I shall be reborn.

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I praise the morning
whose sun is upon me.

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I praise the evening
whose son I am."

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