Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my house-do not pass by like a dream.

I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.

It is the same life that emerges in joy through the dust of the earth into numberless waves of flower.

Lovers, forget your love And list to the love of these. She a window flower. And he a winter breeze.

Lord, I have loved Your sky,Be it said against or for me,Have loved it clear and high,Or low and stormy.

My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy; yet I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted.