AN INVOCATION 



Make keen his ears for sighing of the trees 

 And water flowing swift among the stones, 

 And insects droning through the summer night, 

 And for those sombre diapason-tones 

 In which is voiced the anger of the seas 

 When stirred by Heaven to proclaim their might. 



Let him exult in battling with fierce wind, 

 And joy to breast the breakers swept with foam, 

 To scale their seething walls, athirst to find 

 Fresh-hissing steeps beyond. Or if he roam 

 Where seas of grass surge toward the setting sun 

 Be beast and bird his brethren. May his sleep 

 Be sweetest when upon thy tender breast 

 He lies, where slumber is not yet so deep 

 But that the slipping hours bring everyone 

 Dim benedictions to enhance his rest. 



Sweet mother, though I long have worshipped thee, 

 Finding great peace at each majestic altar, 

 Knowing my sorrow soothed when at thy knee 

 I lose my soul in thine, — how oft I falter 

 Because I know thee not as I would know, 

 Because I am not great enough to grasp 

 All of thy mystery ; wherefore I pray 

 That thou wilt teach my darling so to clasp 

 Thy hidden meanings that at last he grow 

 To godlike stature and full light of day. 



