Under a lonely sky a lonely treeIs beautiful. All that is lonelinessIs beautiful. A feather lost at sea;A staring owl; a moth; a yellow tressOf seaweed on a rock, is beautiful.
The night-lit moon, wide-wandering in sky;A blue-bright spark, where ne'er a cloud is up;A wing, where no wing is, it is so high;A bee in winter, or a buttercup,Late-blown, are lonely, and are beautiful.
She, whom you saw but once, and saw no more;That he, who startled you, and went away;The eye that watched you from a cottage door;The first leaf, and the last; the break of day;The mouse, the cuckoo, and the cloud, are beautiful.
For all that is, is lonely; all that mayWill be as lonely as is that you see;The lonely heart sings on a lonely spray,The lonely soul swings lonely in the sea,And all that loneliness is beautiful.
All, all alone, and all without a partIs beautiful, for beauty is all where;Where is an eye is beauty, where an heartIs beauty, brooding out, on empty air,All that is lonely and is beautiful.