My heart is like a singing bird whose nest is in a water’d shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a daïs of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
A Birthday Celebration
How strange it seems, that old age follows youth! when all the world seemed one's own, at that time, with time enough to seek a higher truth - who'd guess the stairs so steep, so slow to climb?
Worn carpets and worn kneecaps are old age - and yet, a blessed time for life of mind: for those who wish, a different sense of wage; free-chosen universal work to find; and yet more blessed still: that earth-bound soul to meet and greet, and work its soil and flowers; to live with gratitude; and scan the whole to find that
One which proves the whole world ours. As iron age yields to the gold of truth, so our old age may find within, true youth. A Birthday Celebration