Is this thy chosen? Or misty startide,
Woven like a spinner’s web and jeweled
By the climbing moon—is this thy chosen?
Doth forest shade, or shimmering stream,
Or wild bird song, or cooing of the nesting dove,
Bespeak thy chosen? He who sendeth light
Sendeth all to thee, pledges of a bonded love.
And ye who know Him not, look ye!
From all His gifts He pilfered that which made it His
To add His fullest offering of love.