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More beautiful than sun and moon is what
the common man has called a cold gray sky.
Look in that sky, and let your crude gaze cut
right through it at what you can truly spy.
That’s not just dim and dismal cloud you see,
but cover for the antics up above.
What do they hide? What do they choose to be?
While down below we cannot know thereof?
And see how that is better than the sun?
We make him what we want when it is gray.
The moon has never had more glory won
than when I think she’s hid by clouds at play.
Yes, every mundane thing is much, much more
if dressed in imagination’s decor.
~~~
I will not get to see what that could be;
and that is very right, I think, somehow.
Though such a world would do some good to me,
I do not think I really need it now.
It would be rapturous to see the day
when I could count on her to be right there.
But there are other raptures, don’t you say?
And this one’s just as good, and just as rare.
I call it good, that man who, good, has wrought;
and revel in the good he brings to light.
He should not seek for that which seeks him not,
despite however good it is, or bright.
How sweet to love the good that God has planned,
to want but just a little from his hand.