Leafs from the Diary of an Old Soul

Thy fishes breathe but where thy waters roll;
Thy birds fly but within thy airy sea;
My soul breathes only in thy infinite soul;
I breathe, I think, I love, I live, but thee.
Oh, breathe, oh, think -- O Love, live into me;
 ... 

Come to me, Lord: I will not speculate how,
Nor think at which door I would have thee appear,
Nor put off calling till my floors be swept,
But cry, "Come, Lord, come any way, come now."
[Doors, windows, I throw wide; my head I bow,
And sit like some one who so long has slept
That he knows nothing till his life draw near.]1

Thou wilt interpret life to me, and men, 
art, nature, [yea]1 my own soul's mysteries;
bringing truth out, clear joyous to my ken,
Fair as the morn trampling the dull night.
Then the lone hillside shall hear exultant cries;
The joyous see me joy, the weeping weep;
The watching smile, as Death breathes on me his cold sleep.

Gloriously wasteful, O my Lord, art thou!
Sunset faints after sunset into the night,
Splendorously dying from thy window-sill --forever. 
 ... 

 ...  in the perfect time,  ... 
When we are in our  ...  natal home,
 ... 
What if thou make us able to make like thee --
To light with moons, to clothe with greenery,
To hang gold sunsets o'er a rose and purple sea!

Then one to his neighbor may call out, "Come!
Brother, come hither -- I would show you a thing;"
And lo, a vision of his imagining,
 ... 
And each soul to each the closer cling!

 ... 
I shall, with childness fresh, look up to thee;
Thou, seeing thy child with age encumbered sore,
Wilt round him bend thine arm more carefully.

And when grim Death doth take me by the throat,
Thou wilt have pity on thy handiwork;
 ... 
and draw my soul out -- gladder than  ...  thy saved creatures from the narrow ark
who rushing out leaped and laughed and cried for joy,
And the great rainbow strode across the dark.

Give me a world, to part for praise and sunder.
The brooks be bells; the winds, in caverns dumb,
awake fife and flute and flageolet and voice;
The fire-shook earth itself be the great drum;
Rivers, seas, icebergs fill the great score up and under!
And let the air the region's bass out thunder.
 ...