Short Poems

Is the pace of nature slow?
Why not from strength to strength
From miracle to miracle
And not as now with retardation
As with sprained foot

Borrow Urania's subtile wings
Chasing with words fast-flowing things:
Cling to the sacred fact, nor try
To plant thy shrivelled pedantry
On the shoulders of the sky.

He lives not who can refuse me,
All my force saith, " Come & use me."
A little sun, a little rain,
And all the zone is green again

For every god
Obeys the hymn, obeys the ode,
Obeys the holy ode.

For joy & beauty planted it
With faerie lustres cheered,
And boding Fancy haunted it,
With men & women weird.

And rival Coxcombs with enamored stare
Perused the mysteries of her coiled hair

Parks & ponds are good by day,
But where's the husband doth delight
In black acres of the night?
Not my unseasoned step disturbs
The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs

Wisp & meteor nightly falling
But the stars of God remain.

Go into the garden,
Feed thine eyes & ears,
And every sense;
But do not touch a weed,
nor cut off a twig
Be not tempted.
If thou wilt not be a garden tool

I must not borrow light
From history trite
But from friends whom God gave
And the destiny I have