When Four Lips…

When four lips press in pints of love,
Four hands grab gallons more;
When four ears welcome roarings of
Desire’s seas a-pour;
When inner mountains move and shake
Volcanic up four eyes,
The plain of life is wide awake,
Nor star nor sun need rise.

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Coming True

You sleep and dream, a child still,
Your lips a glad half smile;
All your life your happy will
Has charactered your style.

Such innocence is in you yet,
Though sixty years are flown;
The marks of time feel no regret
To leave your soul alone.

Now dawning light peers through the glass,
Upon your face it gleams;
The world of sleepy night may pass,
But never pass your dreams.

Your eyelids quiver, now I see
My future coming true.
The vision opens, it’s to be—
The masterwork of you!

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One pair of ears appears to hear
The words I whisper, soft and low;
One pair of eyes show no surprise,
But speak to these, “I know it’s so;”
One pair of hands, enfolding mine,
Affirm the fastness of my heart;
One pair of lips love’s breaths combine
To pair my judgment when they part.
One single, shining, holy light,
We claim the sun’s late beams our own;
No symbol, but a pair so bright
A fairer star was never known.

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Reach For It.

Sunflower. sunflower,
High, so high,
Up you reach and
Touch the sky.
Time may sleep or
Time may run,
Clouds may come to
Cover sun;
Still, you stand your
Life-long day
Calling children,
“Look my way,
Stretch and reach as
Strong as I,
Sunflower, sunflower,
High, so high!”

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Beauty’s Flower

The whole sky’s gray grows darker now,
Yet your brow’s May lifts fair;
Fall’s petals fall in gardens now,
Your two eyes crown the air.
The day is dim and dimness gives
No hymn of joy, no cheer,
But beauty’s flower, towering, lives
In your high face right here.

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Day Is Mine!

The clouds’ large fall upon the land,
Your lips that drink from my cupped hand,
The bending trees, your eyes a-shine,
I love the wild when you are mine.

The wind blows fierce, we find a cave,
And sit and hear the strong storm rave;
There is no light, but we do shine
With kisses that are yours and mine.

The clouds now part, the sun lays near
His fingertip upon your ear.
I see the truth, I love its shine—
The day is you and day is mine!

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Gardens Do

Flowers yellow, pink and blue,
Low ones, high ones, bright of hue,
Surround the chair I’m sitting on
With light of ever-loving dawn.

Some waft odors melon sweet,
Little maids whose eyes repeat
The passing hours laughing by
Underneath a handsome sky.

Some—the tall ones—lovely sway,
Ballerinas prancing gay,
Playing with the flies and bees
Who try to cut in on the breeze.

Hundred blossoms all about
Round my chair lift quiet shout,
Shout of joy the whole day long,
Shout of lovely life so strong.

All these yellows, pinks and blues
Fill my mind with their good news,
Silent words of wisdom true:
Gardens are what gardens do.

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