HAWTHORN TIDE
23
The grace that is given of a god that abides for a season,
mysterious
And merciful, fervent and fugitive, seen and unknown
and adored:
His presence is felt in the light and the fragrance, elate
and imperious,
His laugh and his breath in the blossom are love's,
the beloved soul's lord.
For surely the soul if it loves is beloved of the god as a
lover
Whose love is not all unaccepted, a worship not utterly
vain:
So full, so deep is the joy that revives for the soul
to recover
Yearly, beholden of hope and of memory in sunshine
and rain.
