Arthur Symons Poems >>

I pray to the old kindness of the Earth,
Which is a spirit moving in the world,
Closer to life than human life, and deep
Beyond the beating of our passionate hearts,
That are too troubled with the pain of love
To be kind always: O, be kind to her.
She is so close to you, Earth of the winds!
There is a healing pity in your heart,
For us who are so soon weary of joy,
And half in love with sorrow: but she is joy;
Be to her the eternal thirst, that is
Itself the drinking of renewed delight!
She is the wildest little wave of the sea,
She is the topmost branch that nods in the sun,
And she is sister to the flying wings;
She breathes as if the whole earth breathed in her;
Vehement breaths, rocking a constant breast;
She has the lifted angers of the hawk,
In gladness, and the tiger's purity;
Her body is as simple as the grass.
O she is close to you, Earth of the winds!
Be near her, be a grave and ancient peace,
As of a mother, comfortingly kind,
Who loves, and has no fear, and understands;
Be to her love in beauty, for she loves
Beauty, a kindness in the natural air.
Your children love her: horses love her hand,
The dog gives up his rebel's heart to her,
And the luxurious wisdom of the cat
Approves her, in a delicate-footed choice;
Your children love her, giving love for love.
She is your child too; follow, follow her
Where I may never follow; be to her
All I would be if this poor mortal love,
This little flame that lights and cannot warm,
Like a poor lonely candle all night long
Seen in a garret-window flickering.
Were mighty and immortal as the sun.
Follow her thou, and if her heart forget
That she has ever shared with me her joy,
Do thou remember always, as my heart
Remembers, and be happiness to her
Though happiness were in forgetting me.