The waxing moon knows nothing of Holy Week,
and stars care nothing for sacred liturgies.
Nor do the fireflies flitting among the trees,
and ‘round the darkening lawn as evening falls.
The beagle dozing in her rabbit-dreams,
a neighbouring cow looking beyond her fence,
and honeybees buzzing to their night-cells hence,
would not understand the penances of Lent.
For they never betrayed their God, and thus
they well may serve as a rebuke to us.