It Starts With One

One voice, it has spoken,

One young man has said,

“Me, I am living,

And I will be free.”

Voice two—hear it echo

With passion sublime,

“This earth is for living,

My thought is no crime!”

Voice three and voice four—

Man, woman, speak out,

“Truth is our leader,

Our souls have no doubt!”

Five, six and seven,

Young, older, too,

They pick up the chorus

And voice it a-new!

Men must be free!

Mind must be free!

Put down your tyranny,

Let us be free!”

And soon the whole city

For freedom does stand,

And soon the whole world

Puts “Free” in command!

And Joy strides up singing,

And Beauty stands tall,

And living, pure living,

Is master of all!

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I’ve penned you many a funny poem,

And made you laugh a bit.

But you are my true serious home,

Loved table where I sit.

I sit and see you next to me,

While beauty lights your face.

Good fortune will not let me be,

But whispers, “Here is grace.”

I know I’m blessed in loving you,

And my whole life is good.

If I must fly whole worlds for you,

I could, I should, I would!

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You, at break of day;

You, arising.

Through the dim-lit rooms you go;

You, moving.

Sun and earth and wind together,

You are my glad-changing weather.

You, climate-face of love—

Sometimes happy–rain of joy;

Sometimes sad– rain of sadness.

Stormy, calm, wild, serene,

And everything in between.

Always, ever, you.

You, at fall of night;

You, moving.

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Autumn comes, Summer goes,

Spinning up and down the drive

In old, fresh-painted clothes.

Trees fling naked gradually

As squirrels leap—surprise!

Gradually the temps decrease

To snowflakes in our eyes.

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So quietly the brown leaves fall;

More quietly your light feet fall,

As quietly behind me you do step.

You think, “He doesn’t hear,

Nor guess I am quite near.”

But yes, my dear, I do,

And wait Love’s blinds—

The closing hands of you!

And then I’ll see—my doom!

And then I’ll be—perfume!

And then your lips—will bloom

As quietly as brown leaves fall,

And quieter than your feet fell,

When you half-thought, “He cannot tell.”

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It’s When, My Dear

Oh, when, my dear, oh when, you come a-walking up the road,

Then everything that heavy was is now no more a load.

Yes, I was bound in heaviness, for you I didn’t see,

And this long way was heavier than heavy rocks that be.

But then, my dear, but then, you came a-walking sweet and fair,

And suns and stars were sparkling all round your eyes and hair!

A bit of bounce was in your arms, a-swinging side to side,

And then, my dear, oh then, was I awake with pride!

For oh, my dear, and oh, my love, you buoyed me like air,

And I was wholly bubbly light when you came by me there!

When everything that heavy was is now no more a load,

It’s when, my dear, it’s when, you come a-walking up the road.

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The light of life is in her face tonight.

Oh, hours, go slow!

There goodness shines, and all is fair and bright.

Time, don’t move! No!

Her lips declare that gold is ruby red.

I kiss them, yea! Treasure’s in bed!

Time, slow down. So!

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