I've sought for beauty in each bud of Spring; The small violets; the touch of moss; The grass: a crimson bird upon the wing; A bowl of daffodils; slim trees which toss Their arms and yearn to reach a starry sky; The grapes of knowledge -- how they would beguile, My teeth sank deep in lusciousness! Oh, I Have loved all these, then lost all zest... awhile. Since winter wind and hurricane is mine, I rest, no longer chasing beauty's wing But, oh how marvelous and strange! The shine Of spirit now invests each earthly thing And errant, winsome beauty lives with me Since I have come to know Gethsemane. |