Classic Poem

I — THE WALL OF TEARS

Pain is a house of glass
High on a stony hill;
Over it pours the rain,
Spraying from roof and sill.

It is filled with a curious light,
And the Soul says, peering out,
" Were it not for my wall of tears,
I could see what God is about! "

II — THE PLAITED WREATH

I've made my days into a wreath,
Since I've no other crown,
And no one sees, or calls me proud
As I go up and down.

For it is woven of three strands
To wear through rain and sun:
One, agony; one, ecstasy —
And hidden peace is one.

III — BEADS

How I have scrambled for my beads!
And oh, what anxious care
To pick them up, and sort them out,
And braid them in my hair!

Rubies, and beads of amethyst,
Gold like a baby's curl,
And heavy beads of ebony,
And pale ones, of dead pearl.

Why did I take so long to learn
(And how my fingers bled!)
This simple way of stringing them
Upon a silver thread?

IV — PEACE

Hide a seed under a rock,
Water the rock with tears:
So may you pick the flower
After a hundred years.

Fall on the sword of God —
See that it pierce you through:
Out of that wet, red stalk
The flower will blossom, too.

V — GIVING

I sat upon a stone alone,
Hungry, and cold, and dumb;
God's ravens had forgotten me,
My wallet held no crumb.

Then one came toiling up the rocks
Seeking my bruited store:
I spread a banquet for us both —
There was enough and more!

VI — FREE

Up on God's window-sill,
Carolling high and shrill,
Shaken with ecstasy,
There clung my spirit — free!

God showed His glorious Head —
Singing, to Him she said,
" Who was it did me wrong?
Why was I caged so long,
Tangled in wires and strings,
Under the stars? "

" Birdling, I made the wings —
You made the bars. "