IN NATURE
A Hundred years later I came to behold
The grave where I was laid to sleep.
The grave digger, singing one of my songs
Had gathered my bones on a heap.
I said to the man, “Find my heart if you can,
From whence came my song’s sad tones.”
The man, quite bewildered, searching in vain,
Found nothing but old bleached bones.
He straightened his back, looked up and said:
“Down there, a heart has no worth.
Though many the hearts you treasured before
All smolder to dust in the earth.”
He finished. I sighed and haltingly asked;
“Is this what you’ve accomplished my heart?”
The grave digger said as if to comfort my grief:
“Thus perish all who once played their part.”
OUT OF MY SONGS
Out of my songs a throne I shall make,
As did the bards of long ago.
My faithful heart for your scepter take;
Like a diadem, my fame shall glow.
That love be our law, I shall implore
My songs will celebrate your day,
Love’s bliss into your soul I’ll pour,
Sweet yearnings in your dreams will play.
To you, the singing birds will fly,
Your feet will tread my blooms of mirth,
When I command the stars on high,
To heavens below we shall change the earth.
For you, I’ll conquer the hearts of men,
I will bring you Eden back again,
My queen I will proclaim you then,
Where-e’er the world extends its reign.
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