And if, O Brethren of the Bleeding Heart,
Dreamers amid the Storm where Love gropes blind,
I have cried aloud for Joy to tear apart
The cloud of Fate that broods o'er Humankind;

If 'mid the darkness I have call'd, ‘Rejoice!
God's in His Heaven—the skies are blue and fair!’
If for a moment's space my faltering voice
Hath echoed here the infant's cry and prayer;

'Tis that the pang of pity grew too great,
Too absolute the quick sharp sense of pain,
And in my soul's despair, left desolate,
I sought to be a little child again!

What did you want to welcome,
blooming?
Had you understood
the darkness?

Had it ended in joy?
I merely passed through you.
Did you know
that I tried to return endlessly?

Love was too large for me.
Did you make certain
of flesh,
which I believed in and passed by?

Did you not explore?
Were you not uncertain?
Was joy that total?
Could you believe in me that much?

I was in your joy.
In you love was total.
But the darkness had not ended.
I was staring.

I could not make certain.
Where were you?
I went far.

To yonder Friend heart-soothing Thanks with complaint I mell;
If love's finesse thou wottest, List to the tale I tell.

All that I wrought of service Thank-and-reward-less passed;
God, be none else allotted Lord so implacable!

To topers athirst none giveth A drop of water to drink;
'T would seem that the lovers of merit Have bidden the realm farewell!

O heart, of the snare of her tresses Beware; for therein to be seen
Are heads, for no fault dissevered, Of lovers uncountable.

Thine eye with its glances drinketh Our blood and thou sufferest it.

I am my Love's laboratory,
For truly he shall find
The proof of his high quality
Within my heart and mind.
Look down, my Love, my Dear,
At the sure change wrought here!

If there be error,
In gentle intimacy
Of love to counsel,
The heart of loyal friendship
Grows ever nearer, dearer.

Lawyers themselves uphold the commonweal.
They punish those that do offend and steal.
They free with cunning art the innocent
From danger, loss and causeless punishment.
They can but will not keep the world in awe
With misexpounded and distended law.
They always have great store of charity
And love they want not, keeping amity.

Penning his comedy called “Man,” the Master
Who shapes his word in symbol and in trope
Made love a gay enigma of disaster,
And life an epigram on the tomb of hope.

Spring breezes waft along the avenue
touching willow branches of bright gold.
Beside the road, a well-appointed horseman,
his knightly aura rivaling the spring!
Amidst bamboo, a delicate flower, a peach,
as ravishing as Lovely Lady Tung!
The knight dismounts, and whispers through the leaves,
suspecting she's a flower-spirit there.

Whither Lord, hast Thou withdrawn, after waking love in me?
Faith, my companion, left me, after kindling the wick of Devotion.

In the sea of separation she felt me, after launching the boat of love.
Mira cries, Lord when wilt Thou greet me? Without Thee I can not live.

Lord, of thy favour, cause That my Loved One safe and hale
Return and deliver me From the clutches of blame and bale.

Bring, bring of the dust of the way Of the Friend departed hence,
So heal that I may withal My world-wearied eye of its ail.

That mole and that down and that tress, That cheek and that face and that shape,
From all the six quarters at once, The path of my heart assail.

To day, whilst I'm yet in thy hand, Some little compassion display!
To morrow, when I shall be dust, Will tears or repentance avail?