The suitor

He is coming on the feast
of Saint Valentine--
his choice, not mine,
of days for meeting
face to face.
The place, the day, are both arranged,
and so the suitor makes his way
to me.
Time always tells,
and we shall see.
But this I know: I am no one's thrall.
I will choose to whom I give my hand,
my heart--
if at all.

from "The Hound of Heaven"

"...All which I took from thee I did but take
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!"
Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest* love from thee, who dravest Me."

--Francis Thompson


*drove

My virtual book of days

They have always drawn me,
those books of days:
long ago
copied by loving hand,
and embellished so patiently
with color and line.
Here is mine--
a virtual book of days;
its pages seen,
yet never touched by hand,
not even mine.

Worth anything

"I hope that this is really not bad after all, that it's not just terrible and not any good, " I said to my daughter after reading what I'd written. "The words just flow so freely; they come to my mind and there they are ," I continued. "Surely nothing that is this easy can be worth anything."

Only now

I have walked the paths laid out for me;
I have worn the letters pinned to me;
I have smiled and nodded pleasantly;
I have borne the cruelties dutifully;
I have tried to live most honorably;
And now I see how beautifully it all has worked
To lead me to myself,
Beyond myself
To where I must be--
To the One who fashioned me.
To live life freely and truly is to
Live as humbly as a child.
Only now do I begin to see.

Star Thoughts

"I shall see a star tonight
From a distant mountain height;
From a city you will see
The same star that shines on me.

'Tis not of the firmament
On a solar journey bent;
Fixed it is through time and weather;--
'Tis a thought we hold together."

--Frances Shaw

Who loves the rain

"Who loves the rain
And loves his home
And looks on life with quiet eyes,
Him will I follow through the storm;
And at his hearth-fire keep me warm;
Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise
Who loves the rain
And loves his home
And looks on life with quiet eyes."

--Frances Shaw