Nothing short of miraculous, a sonnet in a single sentence -

By Robert Frost

The Silken Tent

She is as in a field of silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightlest bondage made aware.

I recited this from memory at my mother’s memorial service. I memorized it after seeing a PBS special with Jason Robards reading it as members of the Theater of the Deaf erected a tent in a field while someone conveyed its meaning in sign language.