Pied Nice Things

Great be God for much-hued things --
  For skies twin-tint as a specked cow;
    For rose moles splashed in rows on trout that swim;
Fresh-flame-coals of fall-nut-blooms; bright finch wings;
  Land laid in plots and pierced -- fold, flat, and plow;
    And all trades, their gear and tools and trim.
      All things 'gainst grain, prime, spare, strange;
  What all shifts, streaks (who knows how?)
    With swift, slow; sweet, sharp; daze-bright, dim;
      He flings forth whose joy's past change:
                            Praise him.

                                -- Dad Small Hops

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