Come out of the world--come above it--
Up over its crosses and graves,
Though the green earth is fair and I love it,
We must love it as masters, not slaves.
Come up where the dust never rises--
But only the perfume of flowers--
And your life shall be glad with surprises
Of beautiful hours.
Come up where the rare golden wine is
Apollo distills in my sight,
And your life shall be happy as mine is,
And as full of delight.
[CONVERSION]
When this world's pleasures for my soul sufficed,
Ere my heart's plummet sounded depths of pain,
I called on Reason to control my brain,
And scoffed at that old story of the Christ.
But when o'er burning wastes my feet had trod,
And all my life was desolate with loss,
With bleeding hands I clung about the cross,
And cried aloud, "Man needs a suffering God!"
[LIFE AND I]
Life and I are lovers, straying
Arm in arm along:
Often like two children Maying,
Full of mirth and song,
Life plucks all the blooming hours
Growing by the way;
Binds them on my brow like flowers,
Calls me Queen of May.
Then again, in rainy weather,
We sit vis-a-vis,
Planning work we'll do together
In the years to be.
Sometimes Life denies me blisses,
And I frown or pout;
But we make it up with kisses
Ere the day is out.
Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,
Try his trust and faith,
Saying I shall one day leave him
For his rival, Death.