The multitudinous murmurings of Day!
The jocund motions that are in the trees,
The flecks of sunshine tossing in the breeze,
The meadow music that is miles away,
The volant birds that can not stay from song,
The sound of woods and waters, spirits strong, —
These, all of these,
Are of the light, and to the Day belong.

Nor less, the populous breathings of the Night:
The vast and vocal rhythms far and near
Of the cicadas, and the tree-toads' clear
Exalted answer from their leafy height;
The bats that haunt the air with dusky whir,
The myriad nameless things that are astir, —
These all appear
As myrmidons of Night and parts of her.