Saturday, April 21, 2012


Could I, with the littleness of a heart dare to know
All the vastness of a world which hides its pearly beauties safe,
The treasures of the winding amber stream
Or stems of blossoms by the spring so soon vouchsafed.
I would be a fool to believe I could;
As the dreams that lovers make for things which cannot be;
So would my vain apostasy of life
Be lost amongst the largeness of the sea.
Those humble souls which were God's granted few
Have in their lack of mortal greed been shown
The rushing storm, the copper-plated dawn
Whenever God perceived their purest vows.
Yet I am neither saint nor angel of a higher realm,
I seek the callous tokens of a brief and passing time--
Yet in the broadest places of my chest
The loveliness of summer dwells sublime.
The empress raven, and her tinted wing,
The silent ermine in the cutting snow;
The misty webs the spiders fling
In gardens by the twilight glow.
How lofty would I be to smell the rain,
Or tread the road of buck and bear,
To see the veins of autumn's flashing leaves
Go spinning through some golden air...
If ever I could touch the breeze,
Or hide the dawn within a cup,
I'd fear the universe would fail
And every lily pause to open up.
Such is the reason God granted littleness within,
We slaves of regions yet unbound,
We servants of our smaller rooms
While awed with vastness all around.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Signage of a Bluebird

Sign in to my breath, little bluebird of mine,
For the friendly song of yours meets the sky;
And we, as companions of the ocean's brine,
And the carts in the market full of rye
Shall walk through the spring with our heads held high.