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Poem	Mud is Beauty in the making, Mud is melody awaking; Laughter, leafy whisperings, Butterflies with rainbow wings; Baby babble, lover's sighs, Bobolink in lucent skies; Ardours of heroic blood All stem back to Matrix Mud. Mud is mankind in the moulding, Heaven's mystery unfolding; Miracles of mighty men, Raphael's brush and Shakespear's pen; Sculpture, music, all we owe Mozart, Michael Angelo; Wonder, worship, dreaming spire, Issue out of primal mire. In the raw, red womb of Time Man evolved from cosmic slime; And our thaumaturgic day Had its source in ooze and clay . . . But I have not power to see Such stupendous alchemy: And in star-bright lily bud Lo! I worship Mother Mud.
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