[I WILL WRITE LETTERS TO THE GRASS]
I will write letters to my friend the grass,
I will sing all my songs to lilac flowers
Gather the spices in the airs that pass,
And wrap my heart close shrouded in the hours.
I dread man's huge impertinence; he creeps
Thro' the inviolate silences of Spring
Like a marauder, waking that which sleeps
To gather strength for lyric blossoming.
I will write all my letters to the grass.
The world shall be resolved into a cry
Faint as a little voice that cries Alas!
And I will laugh alone beneath the sky.
"And wrap my heart close shrouded in the hours"
[ONLY THIS]
We need demand no further gift from Heaven,
We might dispense with documents and creeds,
If but this one great grace to us were given—
The strength to follow where our reason leads.