Divine Poems (134)

- 1908-1997

When,I,was,no,bigger,than,a,huge,
Star,in,my,self,I,began,to,write,
                    My,
               Theology,
             Of,rose,and,

Tiger: till,I,burned,with,their
Pure,and,Rage. Then,was,I,Wrath—
                    Ful,
               And,most,
            Gentle: most,

Dark,and,yet,most,Lit: in,me,an,
Eye,there,grew: springing,Vision,
                    Its,
               Gold,and,
           Its,wars. Then,

I,knew,the,Lord,was,not,my,Creator!
—Not,He,the,Unbegotten—but,I,saw,
                   The,
                Creator,
             Was,I—and,

I,began,to,Die,and,I,began,to,Grow.

Lyrics: II (17)

First, a poem must be magical,
Then musical as a sea-gull.
It must be a brightness moving
And hold secret a bird’s flowering.
It must be slender as a bell,
And it must hold fire as well.
It must have the wisdom of bows
And it must kneel like a rose.
It must be able to hear
The luminance of dove and deer.
It must be able to hide
What it seeks, like a bride.
And over all I would like to hover
God, smiling from the poem’s cover.