Believe as I believe, no more, no less;
That I am right, and no one else, confess;
Feel as I feel, think only as I think;
Eat what I eat, and drink but what I drink;
Look as I look, do always as I do;
And then, and only then, I’ll fellowship with you.

Let us be like a bird one instant lighted
Upon a twig that swings:
He feels it yields; but sings on unafrighted,
Knowing he hath his wings.
Plunge in yon angry waves
Renouncing doubt and care,
The flowing of the seven broad seas
Shall never wet thy hair.
Fair are the flowers and the children
But their subtle suggestion is fairer;
Rare is the rose burst of dawn,
But the secret that clasps it is rarer;
Sweet the exultance of song; but
The strain that precedes it is sweeter;
And never was poem yet writ,
But the meaning mastered the meter.
What have I to do with Thee? World,
O World, I prithee, tell me,
What have I to do with Thee?


I who am a child, content if but with wonder and with love, With the quiet Earth beneath me and the splendid Sun above,
To whom laughter comes unbidden in the watches of the night,
Whom a daisy in the meadow fills with ever new delight. World of void, affected duties, world quite dumb of love’s decree,
O thou solemn prig, pray, tell me, what have I to do with Thee?

World of pigmy men and women dressed like monkeys that go by,
World of squalid wealth, of grinning, galvanized society,
Books that are not read, food, music, novels, papers flung aside.
World of everything and nothing—nothing that will fill the void,
World that starts from manual labour—as from that which worse than damns—
Keeps reality at arm’s length, and is dying choked with shame,
World, in Art and Church and Science, sick with infidelity,
O thou dull old bore, I prithee what have I to do with Thee?

* * * * *
I look upon my life as from afar:
I hear its murmur; mark its changeful sheen,
As one who from a high cliff marks the waves
He just now rode on.

* * * * *
Eternal Hunger! O thro’ the black night have, Winds.
The forest fanes Tremble rock, crash, and ring incessantly
The cry of homeless spirits. Roar,
Ye torrents from the mountains. Roar, O Sea,
Rave under the pleasures.
O gulf of Death, Yawn blackening beneath.

But O great Heart, O Love greater than all,
Over the forests, the mountains and the seas,
O’er the black chasm of death, in spectral haste
Thou ridest, and the hungry winds mid waves
Are but thy hounds: Thou the eternal huntsman.

O man, O child of Man!
Thou frail and baffled bird,
Thou weary tiling,
I take thee up into this height of bliss,
And shew thee all the kingdoms of the Earth,
Yea, all the kingdoms of the hearts of men.
Gaze long in silence, friend; gaze long for all are thine.

* * * * *
O let not the flame die out!

Within thy body I behold it flicker,
Through the slight husk I feel the quick fire leaping— Let not the flame die out!
Send forth thy ministers for fuel,
Send forth the sight of thine eye and the reaching of thy hands and the wayward stepping of thy feet,
Teach thy ears to bring thee and. thy tongue to speak-labour and spend all that thou hast for love-faint not: be faithful.

O let not the flame die out!

Cast at last thy body, thy mortal self, upon it, and let it be consumed;
And behold! Presently the little spark shall become a hearth fire of creation, and thou shalt endue another garment – woven of the sun and stars.
Leaving all, leaving house and home, leaving yearlong plans and purposes, ease and comfort,
Leaving good name and reputation and the sound of familiar voices,
Untwining loved arms from about your neck,
Yet twining them closer than ever
Let not the flame die out!
Cradled in flame!

All night long in love, passing through your lips, my love -Breathing the same breath, being folded in the same sleep, losing sense of Me and Thee,
Into empyreal regions, One, one with God, united, we ascend together.

* * * * *
Then in the ‘morning on the high hill-side in the Sun, we tread again the earthy floor.
O Earth, the floor of heaven —
O Sun, the Eye of God—
O children of the Sun, Ye flowers and streams,—
And we too gazing for a time, for a time; for a time, into each other’s eyes.

Thy bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to Thee
The more I have, for both are infinite.
And I give all I have to Thee.

* * * * *
Inscribed on a mummy case:—
“Artemi dous, Farewell”

Could I but see thee once, or hope to see—
One hair of thy head, one finger of thy hand,
To hear one little word more from thy lips—
‘T were more than all the worlds.

But now the priests
Have got thee in their clutches and already
Thy wrap the sacred linen o’er thy head,
Thy features and thy hair they cover up,
And round thy aims, thy fingers, and thy hands,
They wind and wind and wind the bands,
And I shall see thee never more, sweet coz.
And then they’ll paint

Thy likeness on the outer mummy case,
And stand it by the wall, as if to mock me,
Throwing my arms around a lifeless shell,
Breaking my heart against it.

* * * * *
Never before could I have believed it,
But I see it all now—
There is nothing like it—no happiness—
When you have clean dropped thinking about yourself.
But you must not do it by halves—
While ever there is the least
Grain of self left it will spoil all;
You must just leave it all behind—
And yourself be the same as others—
If they want anything, and you want it,
Well it is the same who gets it—
You cannot be disappointed then.
I do not say it is not hard, but
I know there is nothing-no happiness like it;
It is a new life, and they that have never tasted it,
They have no idea of what it is.