s lord of all the world at once
And never bade the encircled spirit roam
To the circle's bound, beyond the moons and suns,
But makes each heart its home,
And every home the heart of Space and Time,
And each and all a heaven if love could reign;
One infinite untranscended heaven sublime
With God's own joy and pain.

Why, that was what God meant, to set us here
In Eden, when he saw that all was good;
And we have made the sun black with despair,
And turned the moon to blood.

So has Love taught me that too learned tongue,
And in his poorer wisdom made me wise;
I grew so proud of the red drops we wrung
From all philosophies.

My heart is narrow, foolish, what you will;
But this I know God meant who set us here,
And gave each soul the Infinities to fulfil
From its own widening sphere.

To annex new regions to the soul's domain,
To expand the circle of the golden hours,
Till it enfolds again and yet again
New heavens, new fields, new flowers,

Oh, this is well; but still the central heart
Is here at home, not wandering like the wind
That gathers nothing, but must still depart
Leaving a waste behind.

Where is the song I sang that April morn,
When all the poet in his eyes awoke
My sleeping heart to heaven; and love was born?
For while the glad day broke

We met; and as the softly kindling skies
Thrilled through the scented vistas of the wood
I felt the sudden love-light in his eyes
Kindle my beating blood.

_Happy day, happy day,
Chasing the clouds of the night away
And bidding the dreams of the dawn depart
Over the freshening April blue,
Till the blossoms awake to welcome the May,
And the world is made anew;
And the blackbird sings on the dancing spray
With eyes of glistening dew;
"Happy, happy, happy day;"
For he knows that his love is true;
He knows that his love is true, my heart,
He knows that his love is true!_

I cannot sing it: these tears blind me: love,
O love, come back before it is too late,
Why, even Christ came down to us from above:
I think His love was great;

Yet he stood knocking, knocking at the door
Until his piteous hands were worn with scars;
He did not hide that crown of love he wore
Among the lonely stars.