Credo

O you not only worshipful but dear Now have I learned not merely majesty But gentleness and friendlihood to be Your way of drawing near.

And late, upon a blue and yellow day, Wandering alone along a hill of Spring I caught another tender summoning, As if you were the comrad of my play.

How strange that I have looked so lone and far When it is you, Great Love, who lonely are. How I have sought you in your cosmic leisure When you are eager in my childish pleasure.

Why there is no dim doctrine to believe! Only to feel this touching at my sleeve.