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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
LXI
We know not of one mood that 's hers,
Or glad or grave, which has not drawn
Its source from God's deep universe,
As th' hours draw the day from dawn—
Nature's! who holds us quietly
But earnestly, as by a spell,
Whose contact with us seems to be
Actual and yet intangible.
Or glad or grave, which has not drawn
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As th' hours draw the day from dawn—
Nature's! who holds us quietly
But earnestly, as by a spell,
Whose contact with us seems to be
Actual and yet intangible.
In us she thus asserts her claims
Of kinship and divine control;
God-teacher of exalted aims,
The high consents of heart and soul:
Imperfectly man sees and feels,
Through earthly mediums of his fate,
The premonitions she reveals
For issues that shall elevate.
Of kinship and divine control;
God-teacher of exalted aims,
The high consents of heart and soul:
Imperfectly man sees and feels,
Through earthly mediums of his fate,
The premonitions she reveals
For issues that shall elevate.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |