Oh! God, but once to rise above the flesh, To breathe our inmost thoughts in one vast sigh Of rapture. Oh! to realise ourselves, And at that moment ... die. WE We who are made Brave yet afraid, Happy yet sad, Good and yet bad, Sane and yet mad, What can we do? Turmoil and strife, Passion and life, Love and desire, Can these inspire Spiritual fire? How can we live? Stumbling feet, Tasks incomplete, Longings that kill Even the will, Left to fulfil, How can we die? Little have we Bond and yet free, Strong and yet weak, Proud and yet meek, Save but to seek God in it all. God with His hands Holds all the lands; Rules every sea, Sets the winds free, Counts every tree, Makes every leaf. Then shall we fear? He placed us here. If God commands God understands, Ponders, and plans; Knowing it all. TO SINGERS Sing with your intellect and soul combined; Not all technique, nor yet all wild emotion, Thus shall you touch the heart and please the mind, Winning a real and merited devotion. THE MAY TREE A garden in the month of May, The fading of a golden day Upon the tulip flowers. An anthem sung by little birds, The sigh more eloquent than words Of earth to listening hours. And shadows ... like the fringe that lies On cheek, at close of drowsy eyes, And paths, grown damp with dew; And secret places, where to tread Were to disturb the bridal bed Of creatures born anew. And fairer than each living thing That stirs with longings of the Spring, A May tree, bearing flower. Like some young nymph the sunlight charms She stretches forth her slender arms, New decked with leafy dower. While through her wondrous, living form The sap of life leaps strong and warm, Awaking from repose The folded buds to know the Spring, It seems I almost hear them sing For rapture as it flows. Ay! and it seems as though my heart Strained upward, but to take some part In that sweet hymn of praise; As though my pulses quicker beat, To see perfection so complete Revealéd to my gaze. As though the problem of unrest Were solved at last, in this behest To silently fulfil; And deeper still, my soul perceives The mighty Presence that conceives Such beauty at Its will. PURGATORY She said, "I want to live no matter what The penalty, give me on earth the lot I most desire. Let me drink deep of love, of joy, of life. Scatter the roses, let the wine run rife Dear Gods above, and then let fall the knife I will expire."