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

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.

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

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.

Praise shames me, for I secretly beg for it.