Wait for no heavenly life, Seek for no temple alone; Here, in the midst of the strife, Know what the sages have known. See what the Perfect Ones saw— God in the depth of each soul, God as the light and the law, God as beginning and goal.
Earth is one chamber of Heaven, Death is no grander than birth. Joy in the life that was given, Strive for perfection on earth; Here, in the turmoil and roar, Show what it is to be calm; Show how the spirit can soar And bring back its healing and balm.
Stand not aloof nor apart, Plunge in the thick of the fight; There, in the street and the mart, That is the place to do right. Not in some cloister or cave, Not in some kingdom above, Here, on this side of the grave, Here, should we labour and love.
However skilled and strong art thou, my foe, However fierce is thy relentless hate, Though firm thy hand, and strong thy aim, and straight Thy poisoned arrow leaves the bended bow,
To pierce the target of my heart, ah! know I am the master yet of my own fate. Thou canst not rob me of my best estate, Though fortune, fame, and friends, yea, love shall go.
Not to the dust shall my true self be hurled, Nor shall I meet thy worst assaults dismayed; When all things in the balance are well weighed, There is but one great danger in the world— _Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee ill_, That is the only evil that can kill.
“All that I ask,” says Love, “is just to stand And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes; For in their depths lies largest Paradise. Yet, if perchance one pressure of thy hand Be granted me, then joy I thought complete Were still more sweet.
“All that I ask,” says Love, “all that I ask, Is just thy hand-clasp. Could I brush thy cheek As zephyrs brush a rose leaf, words are weak To tell the bliss in which my soul would bask. There is no language but would desecrate A joy so great.
“All that I ask, is just one tender touch Of that soft cheek. Thy pulsing palm in mine, Thy dark eyes lifted in a trust divine, And those curled lips that tempt me overmuch Turned where I may not seize the supreme bliss Of one mad kiss.
“All that I ask,” says Love, “of life, of death, Or of high heaven itself, is just to stand, Glance melting into glance, hand twined in hand, The while I drink the nectar of thy breath In one sweet kiss, but one, of all thy store, I ask no more.”