And God is the weight that bends the bough
of the young tree gently as spring snow.
He is the lightness of the summer flower,
of the bee’s touch, and his the power
that tames the sea and poises like a feather
or a loose leaf the world. He threads together
the stars for necklace and his glory shows,
then hides himself within the cloistered rose.

R.S. Thomas (1913-2000), The Stones of the Field, 1946.