Poetry Archives

God willed, who never needed speech,
   “Let all things be:”
And, lo, the starry firmament
   And land and sea
And his first thought of life that lives
   In you and me.

His circle of eternity
   We see in part;
Our spirits are his breath, our hearts
   Beat from his heart;
Hence we have played as little gods
   And called it art.

Lacking his power, we shared his dream
   Of perfect things;
Between the tents of hope and sweet
   Rememberings
Have sat in ashes, but our souls
   Went forth on wings.

Where life fell short of some desire
   In you and me,
Feeling for beauty which our eyes
   Could never see,
Behold, from out the void we willed
   That it should be,

And sometimes dreamed our lisping songs
   Of humanhood
Might voice his silent harmony
   Of waste and wood,
And he, beholding his and ours,
   Might find it good.