Glory be to God for dappled things --
For skies of couple-color as brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pierced -- fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle; dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
About Him, I am not so sure.
About "pied beauty," I am certain: dappled light turns creek water and stone, algae and leaf, even ice into objects of strange beauty.
Oh dappling: You, I praise.
