Poems (Cromwell)/Thought

For works with similar titles, see Thought.
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THOUGHT
Thought is fragrant like shining grass; It makes for our spirits a lovely mead; As animals taste the grass in shadow On pensive lawns, our spirits feed.
There are seasons when thought lies hidden and cold, As in winter the grass lies under the snow; But the springtime of thought is unforeseen, For our fitful need it seems to grow.
Thought is most often like shining grass;—But thought has a varied form and way; It is like the round leaf of a violet, Or the feathery line of a fir-tree spray.
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