Excerpt from Songs of the Soul

Long years, lorn years apart, alone,

Despite man's rage or woman's ruth,

I kept my cloud-capped heights of stone

To watch for light, to toil for truth.

And oh, the voices I have heard!

Such visions when the morning grows -

A brother's soul in some sweet bird,

A sister's spirit in a rose.

And oh, the beauty I have found!

Such beauty, beauty everywhere;

The beauty creeping on the ground,

The beauty singing in the air.

The love in all, the good in all,

The God in all, in all that is;

But oh, I stumble to my fall,

To try to tell a tithe of this!

Poor falt'ring tongue! Each rambling tale,

Save here and there a ray of light,

Reads as some tavern of the vale,

Instead of God's house on some height.

But take these flowers; tears and toil

Have meshed them in most sad array;

Yet if some weed, some wood, some soil...

A tear may wash the moil away.

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