MY GUEST HAS come to my door in this autumn morning.
Sing, my heart, sing thy welcome!
Make thy song the song of the sunlit blue, of the dew-damp air, of the lavish gold of harvest fields, of the laughter of the loud water.
Or stand mute before him for awhile gazing at his face;
Then leave thy house and go out with him in silence.

LIFE SENDS UP in blades of grass
its silent hymn of praise
to the unnamed Light.

I WOULD ASK for still more, if I had the sky with all its stars, and the world with its endless riches; but I would be content with the smallest corner of this earth if only she were mine.