A Group of Poems

BLESSED are the moments when the spirit of man goes out to the spirit of Earth,
To merge and commingle therewith —
For here is Peace.

Blessed are the moments when man knows himself as the fairest flower of the
Earth,
Thrown up by the Earth —
For here is Joy.

But blessed are the moments when he knows that the moving spirit of Beauty
in all that he sees
Is the moving spirit of Beauty in the depths of his soul —
His own innermost soul —
For here is Truth at last; and Immortality at last;
And the ending of Doubt.

WHAT does it matter
If I cannot express myself as I wish?
If I am poor and companionless,
And have a half-uttered love in my heart,
And a pain in my mind,
And in all my senses,
Because of it?
What does it matter
If my contemporaries shun me,
And think me mad?
If I ride the middle-heavens of life, like a lonely star
Which has swung from the orbit of its constellation
Into an aching void?

What does it matter
If I’m lost,
Or damned,
Or dead —
If still the everlasting glory of God
Be poured out over all the lands of the earth,
In streams of inextinguishable Beauty;
If still the flowers laugh in the happy sunshine,
And the warm spring grasses wave in the wind,
And the lambs run to their mothers in the orchard
Under the blossoms;
If still there be courage in the hearts of men,
And love in the hearts of women,
And Life, coming and going upon the Earth,
Bringing Freedom and Joy?

LORD GOD of the oak and the elm,
And of the gray-green fields,
And the silver skies;
Lord God of the birds and the clouds,
And the rustling of leaves —
Ah, Green Bough in my heart burgeoning, blossoming,
All the days of my youth have been spent in the courts of thy praise!
I have loved Thee, worshiped Thee, adored Thee;
I have uncovered my heart where Thou liest hid,
That men might behold thine infinite healing and mercy;
Thou hast been my Refuge and Strength.
Be with me still,
When my life creeps into the shadows;
When Age has consumed my Endeavor,
And Ardor has flown;
When the hills are dreamy with April,
And I scarce can see them for dimness;

When the children laugh and call in the lane,
And I cannot go out to them . . .
Be with me still;

Shake down thy dusky dew over the fading landscape of my day;
And when the darkness comes,
Set Thou thy stars and constellations
In the heavens of my peace,
That still, through the watches of the night,
I may behold Thee, worship Thee, adore Thee —
And in the Great Dawn
Be made one with Thee,
O Lord my God, my Lover, and my Friend.