Читать книгу Last Verses - Coolidge Susan - Страница 8

’TIS said when pious Moslem walk abroad,

If on the path they spy a floating bit

Of paper, reverently they turn aside

And shun the scrap, nor set a foot on it,

Lest haply thereupon the awful name

Of mighty Allah should by chance be writ.

We smile at the vain dread; but blind and dull

The soul that only smiles, and cannot see

A thought of perfect beauty folded in

The zealot’s reverent fear, as in some free

And flaunting flower-cup may be hived and held

One drop of precious honey for the bee.

Small wind-blown things there are, which any day

Float by in air or on our pathway lie,

Swift-winged moments speeding on their way,

Brief opportunities, which we pass by

Heedless and smiling, little subtle threads

Of influence – intimations soft and sly.

Careless we tread them down, as, pressing on,

Our eager inconsiderate feet we set

On the unvalued treasures where they lie.

We are too blind to prize or to regret,

Too dull to recognize the mystic Name

Graven upon them as on amulet.

Ah! dears, let us no longer do this thing,

And thus the sweeter life lose and let fall;

But with anointed eyes and reverent feet

Pass on our way, noting and prizing all,

Knowing that God’s great token-sign is set,

Not on the large things only, but the small.