And when that mortal likeness
Has been dissolved by fire,
Say not above the ashes,
"Here ends a man's desire."
For every year when the bluebirds sing,
He shall be part of the lyric spring.
Then dreamful-hearted lovers
Shall hear in wind and rain
The cadence of his music,
The rhythm of his refrain,
For he was a blade of the April sod
That bowed and blew with the whisper of God.
Dust of the Street
This cosmic dust beneath our feet
Rising to hurry down the street,
Borne by the wind and blown astray
In its erratic, senseless way,
Is the same stuff as you and I—
With knowledge and desire put by.
Thousands of times since time began
It has been used for making man,
Freighted like us with every sense
Of spirit and intelligence,
To walk the world and know the fine
Large consciousness of things divine.