Poem

Der Mensch war Gottes Bild.
Weil dieses Bild verloren,
Wird Gott, ein Menschenbild,
In dieser Nacht geboren.

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

It isn't the thing you do dear,
It's the thing you leave undone
That gives you a bit of a heartache
At setting of the sun.

The tender word forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flowers you did not send, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts at night.

The stone you might have lifted
Out of a brother's way;
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;

The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle, winning tone
Which you had no time nor thought for
With troubles of your own.

Those little acts of kindness
So easily out of mind, read more »