Renunciation
LIKE scattered flowers blown all about the bay,
The rosy sails, lit with the sunrise, shine;
The white stars in the brightness fade away;
In perfect silence dawns the day divine.
“Oh bring me neither gifts of good or ill,
Delicious day! Let only peace be mine!”
And the fair hours, advancing calm and still,
Passed by her mute, nor brought her word or sign.
But when the glory of the sunset flame
Held all the world in triumph brief and sweet,
The last bright hour, with faltering footsteps, came
And laid a gift august before her feet.
Yet she entreated, “Peace! Take back your gift,
O golden hour! I am content to be
Lonely as yonder fading sails that drift
'Neath saddened skies upon the silent sea.”
Fate answered her, “The gods may not recall
Their gifts, once given. Be wise, therefore. Accept
Their bounty gratefully; for not to all
Such largess falls.” She bowed her head and wept.
She turned her from the sunset’s red and gold,
She faced the dim East’s waning violet,
She saw the twilight stealing pale and cold,
And all her soul was wrung with her regret.
Pure, powerful, triumphant music shook
The listening air and floated up the sky;
The dust and ashes of her life she took
And passed the gift of splendid beauty by.
“But oh, must storm and strife be mine,” she cried,
“Forever? Shall I never find repose?
Mocked by mirage of hope and still defied
And buffeted by every wind that blows!”
From farthest distance high a clear voice rang,
“Ashes and dust shall blossom like the rose!
Climb thou above the tempests,” sweet it sang;
“Patience! ‘On every height there lies repose.’”
