Crumbling Edifice

The sea casts a look from its head to its shoulder
To the silent, dark face of the trembling boulder
Which hangs on a precipice, deep in the wind
Shivering, waiting to rollick and rend.
The sea presses onward---no need to recover
From a single black rock on the edge of a boulder;
Save that it holds, in the storm and its sorrow
A lighthouse which certainly tumbles tomorrow.
Oh, how many souls have been guided and gilded
By rays that the bulb from that lighthouse had weilded?
Shall futures of sailors be struck from their living
Since simply one cold, blackened boulder is giving?
The sea must be heartless, the skies must be granite
The Devil below must take pains just to plan it,
And what of the mothers, and sisters, and wives
Who knit on the coast while the lightning still drives?
Oh, God in your mercy, and justice, and grace
Be kind to the ships as they pass through this place
And grant a dear angel---the strongest you own--
To hold up the rock where your winds have been blown.
As the lighthouse stands straighter, and rains soon pass over
And the sheep on the moors run no longer for cover
The blessings of men both on land and on sea
Will come to your ears, as they'll echo in me;
For I am the one who when midnight came calling
Wept for the beacon of hope that was falling
And cried out, "Oh Guardian, grant us one for my lover!"
For my pleas were all selfish, as you would discover.
But what use is the dawn of a day like this coming
With the freshness of rain and the meadowlarks humming,
Unless in the hope borne from dire despair
It is shared by a man with salt spray in his hair.

Thin White Wind

There is a thin wind blowing over the sea;
Its heartache reminds one of something that's free.
You cannot catch it, you cannot find
The unsearchable portions within its mind.
It is neither the sky, bound by traveling stars
Nor the dust breaking over a hot East bazaar.
It is unknown---what makes it the sea
Is the thin white wind blowing wild and free.

Searching for Love

How little I have noticed the true notes of Love.
It is not merely romance's motion of a pretty passageway through the rain,
Wreathed in roses or made white with sun.
It is the rushing blue light moving through a winter grain,
The tearful look, after death has run
And left her sad and dismal lips against a withered cheek.
It is the hand upon a crying child
When all desertion seems to fill the starving ribs,
The coinage added to the measly pile
Where some old man in rag-clothes lives.
It is the coat offered to a shivering stranger,
And the lips kissed in a darkening night,
As if every cold disaster's danger
Has turned into a crucifix of delight.
Sweet Savior forbid me if I kneel at eve to pray
With a woe in my heart that the world has bent to hell;
If ever I was to search for heaven's way,
I would find it in the love of humans still.

A Free Thing

How can you bind me? I am free
As the wind washes over a new-blown sea,
As the light of a cloud on a single eye,
Or reflections that rove in a pool's dye.
I am the summer, I am the spring,
A wild, unsearchable, wandering thing,
Sweet as a petal born in dusk,
Soft as the warmth of a rose's musk.
How can you bind me? Cuffed or chained
I am the length of a pouring rain,
The autumn of doubt or the lands of pain
Can never grow weeds on my budding plain.

Seething Sea

Can you feel the rhythm
In the speaking sea?
Flowing through the fairway
Rolling on the bree.
Sweet like lips of sunrise,
Calm like dreams of time,
Peridot of passion
Photograph sublime.
Lost---untethered madness
Lost---a breathing thing
Shining in its gladness
Burning when it sings.

The Abandoned Barn

The sun caught its rays on the rafter,
It glistened in gold on the hay,
And a bird, with its voice full of laughter
Danced in glee on the mud and clay.
The buckwheat had dried on the stairway,
And the straw had grown old in the stall,
But in Summer the flowers grew brighter
To prepare for the stillness of Fall.
There were herbs in the pan by the doorway,
And a rabbit who lived in its shade;
And buckets of water from stormclouds
Which had formerly dripped on the glade.
The grain smelled like sugar and honey
And the harness still laid on a board;
In an place overgrown, soft and sunny
There sits beauty, in wilderness stored.

The Dim Day

I have touched the edge of a sweet refrain;
The lark's ascent in the chilling rain,
The sweetened song on his gentle tongue,
Shot with the lightning the heavens rung.
His wing like gold in the dark of night,
An angel of beauty, as dawn's delight;
No one believes me I saw him fly
Straight to the glory of God's great eye.
The gates swung wide, he touched their tip
He hovered on the edge of the shining lip;
It was there he hung: then he shot away;
Not a soul has beheld him since that dim day.

Knowing the Almighty

Oh, for a heart that's pure as light,
And a soul that can live through the darkest night,
For a dream to survive in the raging sea,
And a love to endure, whether chained or free.
Oh, for a hope that will not fade,
For a joy that's as bright as the brightest jade,
For a peace that will pass every road or rule,
For a wisdom that knows neither fame nor fool.
Oh, for a spirit so sweet and true,
For a kindness that shines as the deepest blue,
For a goodness that shudders at whip or rod:
Oh, this we would know, if we just knew God.

Someday Heaven

Someday, the seasons will pass away,
In the blink of an eye, in the sound of a sigh,
And when that day comes you and I
Will be the dream of a song on the quiet bay.
The moon will rise, a haloed thing of wings,
The birds their golden hymnals rise;
What a day it will be when you and I
Fling aside our raiment for the cloth of the skies.
Callous hearts we are today;
We live, we breathe, we die;
The coffers shall pass away,
Someday, in a blink or a sigh.

Vastness

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.