The world's an Inn; and I her guest.
I eat; I drink; I take my rest.
My hostess, nature, does deny me
Nothing, wherewith she can supply me;
Where, having stayed a while, I pay
Her lavish bills, and go my way.
On the white poppy,
a butterfly’s torn wing
is a keepsake
Each blest drop on each blest limb,
Is wash't itself, in washing Him :
'Tis a gem while it stays here ;
While it falls hence 'tis a tear.
Voiceless I speak, and from the tomb reply
Unto Æthopia, Leto's child, was I
Vowed by the daughter of Hermocleides,
Who was the son of Saonaïades.
O virgin queen, unto my prayer incline,
Bless him and cast thy blessing on our line.
Here, where our Lord once laid his Head,
Now the grave lies buried.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
Tell me, bright boy, tell me, my golden lad,
Whither away so frolic ? why so glad ?
What all thy wealth in council ? all thy state ?
Are husks so dear ? troth 'tis a mighty rate.
By looking outward, I see all that is inward.
By looking forward, I become everything that has been.
By looking back, I know what is to come.
I peer into deepest sky to grasp the smallest essence of self.
I look to the dark places to know the light.
A glimpse of the beginning is to witness the end
I am in this world as all the worlds are within me.
See here an easy feast that knows no wound,
That under hunger's teeth will needs be sound;
A subtle harvest of unbounded bread,
What would ye more? Here food itself is fed.
Of all the gods that gave me all their glories
To-day there deigns to walk with me but one.
I lead him by the hand and tell him stories.
It is the Queen of Cyprus' little son.
