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MINNIE MYRTLE MILLER
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Her soft, magnetic thrill you feel, You love her presence, and she woosYour languid moods but to reveal The soul of Nature’s veiled truths.So mute and silent is her way The coarser mind can never heed,She pleads with you to stay and stay And Nature’s subtle page to read.
To gather up the trifles sweet The busier eye can never seeAnd make the broken chains complete That link “finite infinity,”The struggling mosses of the sod The weeds that vex the earth and curseTo hold them up and call them God The primal of the universe;To probe the dreamy mystery wrought By insects rearing coral bars,Then reach up with thy poet-thought And read the lives of all the stars;To teach the weary, weary heart To rest and drink life’s sweetness in,To draw the flimsy veil apart That shrouds the Beautiful in Sin.She bids you lay your toil aside And gladly bear her magic wand,And in her dreamy realms abide Till the dull world shall understand.And little waifs that float unseen, Brushed by the careless hand awayShall settle, wooed, in peace serene Upon the soul of men, and stay.
My muse, less kind, or more discreet, Deigns not my lonely steps to guide,And never dares with me to meet Except with one or more beside.
