Final Litany

e me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

***

Stir up thy power, O Lord, and with great might come upon us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let thy bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; Amen.

***

In one life, as sorrows rise, drowns ev’ry good intent and noble deed. Into one life pale troubles fall, the tired and putrefying leaves of dying trees.

***

Weeping under a naked tree, casting my tears upon last summer’s leaves. My eyes, aged and blurred, footsteps wander in pointless pattern. Fingers, trembling, reach Godward. Arms, spindly and brittle, futile rage against a winter sky.

***

Who are the two of us, this man beside myself and me? The man I know in one I've never known, who are you? Who are we? Two minds at war with themselves, two hearts untruly joined. With me on this hand and you on the other, the sum made less by the whole.

***

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody . . .

***

Sunset to sunrise changes now, for God doth make his world anew: On the Redeemer’s thorn-crown’d brow The wonders of that dawn we view.

***

Benedictus  qui venit in nomine Domini.

***

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --
I keep it, staying at Home --
With a Bobolink for a Chorister --
And an Orchard, for a Dome --

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice --
I just wear my Wings --
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton -- sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman --
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at last --
I'm going, all along.

***

He lost it, while you were counting coins and houses, while your purposeless lovers lie, while your fruitless apple trees die, at the merciless hungry wind, while raging hands defiled the sod, while you sang sweetly to your God, while rude hands had dragged him, over cat, over town, over slave, over freeman, over shadow, over talk, over pain, over rock and mountain! He lost it over the dark, gray night of wonder while you were at home enjoying your pipe!

***

Blood to wash, blood to defile.
Blood to save, blood to condemn.
Scarlet drops of crimson wine fill the chalice for this sacrifice.
On this claret cup to dine so to lose my life, paradise their souls to win.
Like pigment ground from Satan’s arts the stains from two once-beating hearts
Baptize my hands but not my sin

***

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth,--the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms.
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.

***

Here, in o’erwhelming final strife, the Lord of Life hath victory;
And sin is slain, and death brings life, and sons of earth hold heav’n in fee.

***

Benedictus  qui venit in nomine Domini.

***

Jesus, all my gladness, my repose in sadness,
Jesus, heav’n to me;
Ah, my heart long plaineth, ah, my spirit straineth,
longing after thee!
Thine I am, O holy Lamb;
only where thou art is pleasure,
You alone I treasure.

***

Inconceivably solemn!
Things so gay
Pierce—by the very Press
Of Imagery—

Their far Parades halt on the eye
With a mute Pomp—
A pleading Pageantry—

Flags, are a brave sight—
But no true Eye
Ever went by One—
Steadily—

Music's triumphant—
But the fine Ear
Aches with delight
The drums to hear.

***

Good Morning -- Midnight --
I'm coming Home --
Day -- got tired of Me --
How could I -- of Him?

Sunshine was a sweet place --
I liked to stay --
But Morn -- didn't want me -- now --
So -- Goodnight -- Day!

I can look -- can't I --
When the East is Red?
The Hills -- have a way -- then --
That puts the Heart -- abroad --

You -- are not so fair -- Midnight --
I chose -- Day --
But -- please take a little Girl --
He turned away!

***

Feet small, feet small as mine
Have marched in revolution
Small hands have hoisted them,
Feet small as mine have marched in witness,
Firm to drum, when speech went numb.
Let me not shame them,
Beck’ning  toward the light