Poems (Radford)/Your Gift
Your Gift
You turn your face away, Whose light would shineOn the flower of my spirit that pales,That is sick for the comfort that fails, Whose petals pine And wither day by day.
Your heart so cold in sleep, I may not wake,And I wander and slip from your sightTo the measureless caves of the night, And for your sake My flower of passion keep.
You give me to the night That chains the stars,To the dreams that are locked in the earth,That must anguish and die at their birth, Whose shadowy bars Shall ever stay their flight.
You give me to the wind That rocks the day,And I drift in the wrack of his wings,In the salt of the seas that he flings. A castaway Unloved and left behind
You give me to my grief That has no placeIn the cities of earth or of Heaven,That must drift as a ghost that is driven, Shut out from grace, In its great unbelief.
Oh you whose heart is cold, If I should showAll the waste of my life at your side,All the flower of my soul that has died, You would not know The gift of gifts you hold,
Oh you whose sleep is dear, And long to take,Should you dream how they sicken and die,Who are cast from the earth and the sky, You would awake And keep your gift for fear.