A Prayer To The God Of Nature

A Prayer To The God Of Nature

God of the roadside weed,
Grant I may humbly serve the humblest need.

God of the scarlet rose,
Give me the beauty that Thy love bestows.

God of the honey bees,
Help me to reach deep joys from all I see.

God of the spider's lure,
Let me, from mine own heart, unwind such grace.

God of the lilly's cup,
Till me! I hold the empty chalice up.

God of the sea -gull's wings,
Bear me above each dark and turbulent thing.

God of the watchful owl,
Help me to see at midnight, like this fowl.

God of the antelope,
Teach me to scale the highest crags of Hope.

God of the burrowing mole,
Let cold earth have no terror for my soul.

God of the chrysalis
Grant that my grave may be a call of bliss.

God of the butterfly,
Help me to vanquish Death, although I die.

~  Fredric Lawrence Knowles

From my mother's poetry notebook

Hang Me Among Your Winds

Hang Me Among Your Winds

Hang me among your winds, O God,
     Above the tremulous stars,
Like a harp of quivering silver strings,
     Showering, as it swings,
          Its tuneful bars
     Of eerie music on the earth.

Play over me, God,
     Your cosmic melodies;
The gusty overture for Spring's
     Caprice and wayward April's mirth;
          The sensuous serenade
     Of summer, languid in the alder glade;
          The wistful symphonies
     Of Autumn; and Winter's rhapsodies
          Among the drifted dunes --
     Her lullabies and her torrential tunes
Moody with wild cadenzas, with fitful stress
          And poignant soundlessness.

Touch me, O God, with but a gesture --
     And let each finger sweep
Over my strings until they leap
     With life; and rain
Their silver chimes upon the plain,
In harmonies of far celestial spaces
     Of high and holy places.

~ Lew Sarett

From my mother's poetry notebook

Love's Beauty

Love's Beauty

All that I had I gave you, never dreaming
Of a return; for it was love I gave.
I gave as a star gives her beauty streaming
In deep of night to a dark western wave.
It was my spirit that I yielded to you,
Surrendering all things; and I asked no more
Than that my mystery none other knew
Should be the secret diadem you wore.

But love is richer than we ever know:
We lavish it, and love comes back to us
A thousandfold.  How can I think it so?
How else?  Our little child proclaims it thus.
For in him love returns, in flower and light,
More than I gave you in the glimmering night.

~ Archibald Rutledge

From my mother's poetry notebook

High Flight

High Flight

Ah, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of -- wheeled and soared and swinging
High in the sunlit silence.  Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

~ John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

From my mother's poetry notebook

Moods

Moods

The Dawn is a pale, cold nun
    with a silver rosary,
And saint am I in the morning,
     who would not be?

But a man of the world am I,
     Careless and debonair
When the gypsy Dusk comes out of the west
     With a star in her hair.

~ Nellie Burget Miller

What Is Poetry

What Is Poetry

The basic language of the soul,
Through which dumb life is made
At last, articulate;
The strangled cry
Of world-democracy, new-born,
With wide-eyed vision, unafraid;
          Rhythmic stir
               Of the primal clod,
          To follow the flute-call
               Up to God.

~ Nellie Burget Miller

From my mother's poetry notebook

Phantasy

Phantasy

Have you ever known the wonder of a June day in the clouds
With a soft breeze gently tugging at your bark?
Known the joy of sailing, sailing
Over mountain peak and town
Like a carefree wren or jasper meadow lark?
Have you felt the downy softness of a cloud upon your cheek,
Known the comfort of one pillowed neath your arm?
Known the thrill of drifting, drifting
Over endless seas of blue
On a balmy breeze that blows caresses warm?
Snow-white clouds float out to meet you,
Crystal palaces glide by,
Hazy dancers beckon to you from afar;
Rome may fall and worlds may totter,
Does it matter to you now
When your cloud skiff sails so surely for a star?

~ Margaret Harvey

From my mother's poetry notebook