Poetry

Sometimes I tremble like a storm-swept flower, And seek to hide my tortured soul from thee. Bowing my head in deep humility Before the silent thunder of thy power. Sometimes I flee before thy blazing light, As from the specter of pursuing death; Intimidated lest thy mighty breath, Windways, will sweep me into utter night. For oh, I fear they will be swallowed up— The loves which are to me of vital worth, My passion and my pleasure in the earth— And lost forever in thy magic cup! I fear, I fear my truly human heart Will perish on the altar-stone of art!