The Silken Tent

She is as in a field of silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,

And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,

But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one’s going slightly taut

In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.

Selection from the Witness Tree. NEW YORK: HENRY HOLT, 1942 | Source: Wikipedia.
Painting: “Fresh Air” by William Whitaker, oil on canvas, 1996.