eaven.

To all things else you give; from me you ask.

The harvest of my life ripens in the sun and the shower till I
reap more than you sowed, gladdening your heart, O Master of the
golden granary.

LXXIX

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless
in facing them.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain but for the heart to
conquer it.

Let me not look for allies in life's battlefield but to my own
strength.

Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved but hope for the
patience to win my freedom.

Grant me that I may not be a coward, feeling your mercy in my
success alone; but let me find the grasp of your hand in my
failure.

LXXX

You did not know yourself when you dwelt alone, and there was no
crying of an errand when the wind ran from the hither to the
farther shore.

I came and you woke, and the skies blossomed with lights.

You made me open in many flowers; rocked me in the cradles of
many forms; hid me in death and found me again in life.

I came and your heart heaved; pain came to you and joy.

You touched me and tingled into love.

But in my eyes there is a film of shame and in my breast a
flicker of fear; my face is veiled and I weep when I cannot see
you.

Yet I know the endless thirst in your heart for sight of me, the
thirst that cries at my door in the repeated knockings of
sunrise.

LXXXI

You, in your timeless watch, listen to my approaching steps while
your gladness gathers in the morning twilight and breaks in the
burst of light.

The nearer I draw to you the deeper grows the fervour in the
dance of the sea.

Your world is a branching spray of light filling your hands, but
your heaven is in my secret heart; it slowly opens its buds in
shy love.

LXXXII

I will utter your name, sitting alone among the shadows of my
silent thoughts.

I will utter it without words, I will utter it without purpose.

For I am like a child that calls its mother an hundred times,
glad that it can say "Mother."

LXXXIII

I

I feel that all the stars shine in me. The world breaks into my
life like a flood.

The flowers blossom in my body. All the youthfulness of land and
water smokes like an incense in my heart; and the breath of all
things plays on my thoughts as on a flute.

II

When the world sleeps I come to your door.

The stars are silent, and I am afraid to sing.

I wait and watch, till your shadow passes by the balcony