now(more near ourselves than we)
is a bird singing in a tree,
who never sings the same thing twice
and still that singing's always his
eyes can feel but ears may see
there lived a gayer he;
if earth and sky should break in two
he'd make them one(his song's so true)
who sings for us for you for me
for each leaf newer than can be:
and for his own(his love)his dear
he sings till everywhere is here
-- e. e. cummings