But if the worm Should call itself the butterfly, Since it will soon become one, I Better to be myself affirm That I am Beauty, Truth--for you I would be Beauty, Truth, imbue Your life with love and loveliness. And you can make me Beauty, Truth, And I can bring you soul success If you but train my flower whose youth Still may be governed, keep erect My hope in this poor earthen sod. I think this is a task which God Appoints for us. We may neglect The task in this life, but to find It is a task we leave behind, Only to meet it, till we see Our fate worked out in lives to be. O, from my lesser self to spread My golden wings above your head, Through love of love and you discard The sting, the rings of green, the shard. Oh, to be Psyche, passion tried Through flesh, desire, purified! Love is my lode-star, music yours-- Souls must go where the lode-star lures. HYMN TO AGNI God of fire, God of the flame of our love, Beyond whose might no God is, And none in the realm of birth, Agni! Adored one, May we never suffer in thy friendship! Thou, who art re-born each day, And whose symbol is the sacred drill Wherewith fire is made for the temple, Morning by morning, Freshly create our love as the sun awakes, Preserve our love, O Agni! The crocuses, the dandelions, The golden forsythia Perished in May. But roses burn on the altar of earth, Bridal blossoms, whitest of fire, Dance in the winds of June. Agni, remember us, Remember our love! We have prayed to you, powerful one-- Thou whose name is first In the first of the sacred hymns; Thou to whom sacrifices pass To the Gods, thou messenger of the Gods, Thou who art born a little lower than the most high Indra Hast heard our prayer-- Hear still our prayer: Abide with us, O Agni, and befriend; Make our hearts as temples, And our desire as the drill, Wherewith fire is created For the sacred sacrifice of love, And for a light to our spirits-- Turn not away from our prayers, O Agni! Here before the fire of the Sun of June Kneeling Hand in hand, Our eyes closed before the splendor of your spirit Hear our prayer, O Agni: May we never suffer in thy friendship. EPITAPH FOR US One with the turf, one with the tree As we are now, you soon shall be, As you are now, so once were we. The hundred years we looked upon Were Goethe and Napoleon. Now twice a hundred years are gone, And you gaze back and contemplate, Lloyd George and Wilson, William's hate, And Nicholas of the bloody fate; Us, too, who won the German war, Who knew less what the strife was for Than you, now that the conqueror