Let my leaves stir
In each sigh of the air,
My branches be
Lively and glad in Thee;
Each leaf a prayer,
And green fire everywhere ...
And all from Thee
The sap within the Tree.
And let Thy rain
Fall—or as joy or pain
So that I be
Yet unforgot of Thee.
Then shall I sing
The new song of Thy Spring,
Every leaf of me
Whispering Love in Thee!
EARTH TO EARTH
What is the soul? Is it the wind
Among the branches of the mind?
Is it the sea against Time's shore
Breaking and broken evermore?
Is it the shore that breaks Time's sea,
The verge of vast Eternity?
And in the night is it the soul
Sleep needs must hush, must needs kiss whole?
Or does the soul, secure from sleep,
Safe its bright sanctities yet keep?
And oh, before the body's death
Shall the confined soul ne'er gain breath,
But ever to this serpent flesh
Subdue its alien self afresh?
Is it a bird that shuns earth's night,
Or makes with song earth's darkness bright?
Is it indeed a thought of God,
Or merest clod-fellow to clod?
A thought of God, and yet subdued
To any passion's apish mood?
Itself a God—and yet, O God,
As like to earth as clod to clod?