I searched among the hills to find His love, And found but waving trees, and stones Where lizards flaunt their green and slip to cool Adown the moss. I searched within the field To find His treasure-trove, and found but tasseled stalk And baby grain, encradled in a silky nest. I searched deep in the rose’s heart to find His pledge to me, and steeped in honey, it was there. Lo, while I wait, a vagabond with goss’mer wing Hath stripped her of her loot and borne it all to me. I searched along the shore to find His heart, Ahope the lazy waves would bear it me; And watched them creep to rest upon the sands, Who sent them back again, asearch for me. I sought amid a tempest for His strength, And found it in its shrieking glee; And saw man’s paltry blocks come crashing down, And heard the wailing of the trees who grew Afeared, and, moaning, caused the flowers to quake And tremble lest the sun forget them at the dawn; While bolts shot clouds asunder, and e’en the sea Was panting with the spending of his might. I searched within a wayside cot for His white soul, And found a dimple next the lips of one who slept, And watched the curtained wonder of her eyes, Aflutter o’er the iris-colored pools that held His smile: And touched the warm and shrinking lips, so mute, And yet so wise. For canst thou doubt whose kiss Still lingers on their bloom? Amid a muck of curse, and lie, And sensuous lust, and damning leers, I searched for Good and Light, And found it there, aye, even there; For broken reeds may house a lark’s pure nest. I stopped me at a pool to rest, And toyed along the brink to pluck The cress who would so guard her lips: And flung a stone straight to her heart, And, lo, but silver laughter mocketh me! And as I stoop to catch the plash, Pale sunbeams pierce the bower, And ah, the shade and laughter melt And leave me, empty, there. But wait! I search and find, Reflected in the pool, myself, the searcher. And, on the silver surface traced, My answer to it all. For, heart of mine, who on this journey Sought with me, I knew thee not, But searched for prayer and love amid the rocks Whilst thou but now declare thyself to me. Ah, could I deem thee strong and fitting As the tempest to depict His strength; Or yet as gentle as the smile of baby lips, Or sweet as honeyed rose or pure as mountain pool? And yet thou art, and thou art mine— A gift and answer from my God. It is not my purpose to attempt an extended interpretation of the metaphysics of these poems. This one will repay real study. No doubt there will be varied views of its meaning.