Poems (Coolidge)/Mosaic

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4474776Poems — MosaicHelen Elizabeth Coolidge
MOSAIC
Ah, yes! fit name this life to give, for many-hued it seems,
As, piece by piece, the pattern grows, though we dream idle dreams;
Of broken bits I dare not tell—those missing, dull, defaced;
'Twere best to note the brighter side, in wondrous pattern traced.

To human sight, in like array, the crowd oft flitteth by,
Yet Love divine, as precious gems, some fragments can espy;
Their beauty, painted by the soul, rejoiceth with its power,
Tile while, across our thorny path, they glow as brilliant flower.

Perchance, in somber shade, we see a brave, yet rugged soul!
Such, as we gaze, new strength impart, for pressing toward the goal,
The hand of God doth fashion some, in forms no eye may see,
"So incomplete," we say,—to Him, so rich in ministry.

These varied lives, mosaic each, when shall they finished be?
And what the pattern I shall bear for all eternity?
The Master knows! O soul, believe, the answer's writ in heaven;
So pray, so live, so die—that thou rejoice when it is given!