Blest be the dawn, the luminous blue-slate,
the arch transfused by the glorious sun,
and blackbirds chanting hymnals in prickly bushes,
and rooks high over fields coughing up love.

Blest be the winds about the furrowed brow,
and the joyful whispers of dying leaves,
the maples staggered blissfully behind barbed fences
above the tombs of the newly redeemed.

Blest be pain that comes like a stark beggar,
the thorn-tree that has its roots in a star,
the sweet massacred gourds tethered to the rusting gate,

Am I not he that hath made thee and begotten thee,
I, God, the spirit of man?
Wherefore now these eighteen years hast thou forgotten me,
From whom thy life began?
Thy life-blood and thy life-breath and thy beauty,
Thy might of hands and feet,
Thy soul made strong for divinity of duty
And service which was sweet.
Through the red sea brimmed with blood didst thou not follow me,
As one that walks in trance?
Was the storm strong to break or the sea to swallow thee,
When thou wast free and France?

IN a valley of this restles mind
I sought in mountain and in mead,
Trusting a true love for to find.
Upon an hill then took I heed;
A voice I heard (and near I yede)
In great dolour complaining tho:
See, dear soul, how my sides bleed
   Quia amore langueo.

Upon this hill I found a tree,
Under a tree a man sitting;
From head to foot wounded was he;
His hearte blood I saw bleeding:
A seemly man to be a king,
A gracious face to look unto.
I asked why he had paining;

Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
when Body my good
bright dog is dead

How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye

With cloud for shift
how will I hide?

i look into your eyes
and see the stars
burning quietly
in a midnight sky
and i am humbled.

what hope have i
to rein a winged foal
dancing on a distant cloud
chasing the maiden moon
as she scatters her delicate veils
of luminous dust
on the sleeping earth below.

what hope have i
disfigured and alone
who cannot speak
and dare not feel
you will not hear the silent voice
that clamors in a trembling heart
you will not see the man
imprisoned by the shackles of his soul
you will not know
me.

As ships, becalm'd at eve, that lay
With canvas drooping, side by side,
Two towers of sail at dawn of day
Are scarce long leagues apart descried;

When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,
And all the darkling hours they plied,
Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas
By each was cleaving, side by side:

E'en so--but why the tale reveal
Of those whom, year by year unchang'd,
Brief absence join'd anew, to feel,
Astounded, soul from soul estrang'd?

At dead of night their sails were fill'd,
And onward each rejoicing steer'd--

I saw a worm, with many a fold;
It spun itself a sliken tomb;
And there in winter time enrolled,
It heeded not the cold or gloom.

Within a small, snug nook it lay,
Nor snow nor sleet could reach it there,
Nor wind was felt in gusty day,
Nor biting cold of frosty air.

Spring comes with bursting buds and grass,
Around him stirs a warmer breeze;
The chirping insects by him pass,
His hiding place not yet he leaves.

But summer came; its fervid breath
Was felt within the sleeper's cell;
And, waking from his sleep of death,

Now plead my cause, Almighty God,
With all the sons of strife;
And fight against the men of blood,
Who fight against my life.

Draw out thy spear and stop their way,
Lift thine avenging rod;
But to my soul in mercv say,
"I am thy Savior God!"

They plant their snares to catch my feet,
And nets of mischief spread;
Plunge the destroyers in the pit
That their own hands have made.

Let fogs and darkness hide their way,
And slipp'ry be their ground;
Thy wrath shall make their lives a prey,
And all their rage confound.

The man is ever bless'd
Who shuns the sinners' ways,
Among their councils never stands,
Nor takes the scorner's place;

But makes the law of God
His study and delight,
Amidst the labours of the day,
And watches of the night.

He like a tree shall thrive,
With waters near the root;
Fresh as the leaf his name shall live;
His works are heav'nly fruit.

Not so the ungoodly race,
They no such blessings find;
Their hopes shall flee, like empty chaff
Before the driving wind.

How will they bear to stand

Let me be at the place of the castle.
Let the castle be within me.
Let it rise foursquare from the moat's ring.
Let the moat's waters reflect green plumage of ducks, let
   the shells of swimming turtles break the surface or be
   seen through the rippling depths.
Let horsemen be stationed at the rim of it, and a dog,
   always alert on the brink of sleep.
Let the space under the first storey be dark, let the water
   lap the stone posts, and vivid green slime glimmer upon