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MINE is the shape forever set between
The thought and form, the vision and the deed;
The hidden light, the glory all unseen,
I bring to mortal senses, mortal need.

Who loves me not, my sorrowing slave is he,
Bent with a burden, knowing oft the rod;
But he who loves me shall my master be,
And use me with the joyance of a god.

Man's lord or servant, still I am his friend;
Desire for me is simple as his breath;
Yea, waiting, old and toilless, for the end,
He prays that he may find me after death.

poem by Margaret Steele Anderson (1902)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Allurement

FROM yonder hedge, from yonder spray,
He calls me onward and away.
Broad lies the world and fair to see;
The cuckoo calls—is calling me.

I have not seen or heard of Care,
Who used my very bed to share,
Since that first morn, when airily
The cuckoo, calling, called to me.

My sweetheart's face? I have forgot.
My mother? But she calls me not.
From the sweet bank, from the dim lea,
The cuckoo calls—is calling me.

And I must go—I may not choose;
No gain there is, nor aught to lose;
And soon—say, now—on some wild tree,
The bird sits long and waits for me.

poem by Margaret Steele Anderson
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Mystery

This is your cup—the cup assigned to you
From the beginning. Nay, my child, I know
How much of that dark drink is your own brew
Of fault and passion. Ages long ago—
In the deep years of yesterday,—I knew.

This is your road—a painful road and drear.
I made the stones—that never give you rest;
I set your friend in pleasant ways and clear,
And he shall come, like you, unto my breast;
But you—my weary child!—must travel here.

This is your task. It has no joy nor grace.
But is not meant for any other hand,
And in my universe hath measured place.
Take it; I do not bid you understand;
I bid you close your eyes—to see my face.

poem by Margaret Steele Anderson (1902)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!