Of these and uncounted hours

Heart of mine, if all the altars
Of the ages stood before me
Would I devote myself maybe

To a higher cause and have faith
In the sacred ways of nature?
Instead of trying to profit

Against my mortal echoes
With not one hour pure enough
Or one month of sacred work

I am not I guess, great enough then
To love thy spirit with this mortal body
Or this brain too dramatic in the self’s
Lonely worship to remember

Any temple of the sun that lives eternally
Soul of mine, built for cosmic cycles
If my love, in all its portions of sweet service
Would ever learn how to serve thee true

And my whole life long find courage
With small prayers, gentle language
Thou wouldst smile to hear
My small worship, worship of words

The poetry of my bronze music here
And recall that I too loved the inner world
And in a subtle shrine of utter gladness
Found peace below the tranquil stars

And divine nectar to call upon
After the weary day and brutal work
Of living, in the tumult of so much change.