I heard a knock, a hard blow,
At my gate, and cried I,
“Who is it? Ho.”
I wondering, waited, entranced, and Lo!
How soft and sweet Love whispered low
“Tis Thou that knockest, do you not know? “
My sweetheart dear, Come near and near,

Smiling, glancing, Singing, and dancing.
I bowed, with sighs. He didn’t reply.
I prayed and knelt. He left and went.
“Why cut me so? Pray, stay; don’t go.”
He answered slow, “No, no.”
I entreated hard, “Pray, sit by me, Lord.”
He answered: “Wouldst Thou sit by me?
When, do, please, sit by Thee.”
I: “Do unto me speak.”
He: “Enter Thou into silence deep”I:
“I would clasp Thee and kiss;
Dear, grant me but this.”
“Thou shall clasp thyself and kiss?
I am one with Thee, why miss?
“My form Divine
Is an image of Thine.
Why seek Thee form,
O Source of charm?
With Thee I lie,
You outward fly.
Don’t slight mc so.
Why outward go?”
A line companionship I know,
In all I see and hear.
My Mistress is the buxom wind,
I taste the breath of showers.
To me the whispering leaves are kind,

And sweet the lips of flowers
I Had a welcome in the skies,
Another in the grass.

Come hither, come hither, ye merry bird,
And tell me a story do.
Why are you always happy and glad,
And never a thought of sorrow have?
The bird cooed softly and whispered low,
The reason is very plain you know.
I love the sunshine, the gay green trees,
The whole of Nature, the cool, cool breeze,
So why should I be sorry and pout,
When Nature is laughing around and about?
And is ready and willing to truly serve me,
With everything that is necessary,
If only I merrily sing and chirp,
And happily, happily to my work,
For, Nature and I are one, you see,
And she is always subservient to me.

Before ever land was,
Before ever the sea,
Or the soft hair of the grass,
Or the fair limbs of the tree,
Or the fresh-coloured fruit of my branches,
I was, and thy soul was in me.
First life on my sources.
First drifted and swam;
Out of me or the forces,
That save it or damn.
Out of me man and woman, and wild beast and bird.
Before God was, I am.
I the mark that is missed,
And the arrows that miss,
I the mouth that is kissed,
And the breath in the kiss,
The search and the sought and the seeker, the soul,

And the body that is.
I that saw where ye trod,
The dim paths of the night,
Set the shadow called God,
In your skies to give light,
But the morning of knowledge to rise,
And the shadowless soul is in sight.
The storm winds of ages
Blow through me and cease,
The war-wind that rages,
The spring-wind of peace,
lire the breath of them roughen my tresses,
Ere eve of my blossoms increase.
All forms of all faces.
Ail works of all hands
In unsearchable places,
Of time-stricken lands
All death and all life.
And all reigns and all ruins,
Drop through me as sands,
O my sons, O too dutiful

Towards God not of me,
Was not I enough beautiful,
Was it hard to be free?
For, behold, I am with you and in you and of you.
Look forth now and see.

O Love! O Love I O Love!
Above time, space and causality
Thee I will always love,
O Truth, the one Reality.
O Love! O Love! O Love!
My Self in which I live,
In Thee I live and move,
And to Thee myself I give.
O Love! O Love! O Love!
To Thee belongs my whole life,
Thee I will ever serve,
In the midst of honour or strife.
O Love! O Love! O Love 1
Thy will is wholly mine,
Just bid me do whatever Thou wilt.
My will is a reflection of Thine.

This primer well did me describe,
Its letters were hieroglyphic toys.
In different ways did me inscribe,
This alphabet so curious one day,
I relegate, to the waste-paper basket

I burn this booklet leaf by leaf,
To light my lonely smoking pipe.
I smoke and blow it through my mouth,
And watch the curly smoke go out

RAMA So am I

The oceans surge, the rivers roll
In me, in me, in me.
The flowers smile, the zephyrs blow
In me, in me, in me.
Big fairs are held and battles raged,
In me, in me, in me.
The mountains heave and Nature blooms
In me, in me, in me.
The comets fly, the meteors die,
Gold winds sigh and thunders cry,
In me, in me, in me.
The foe contends, the friend defends,
The mother sleeps, the baby weeps,
In me, in me, in me.

His answer flashed as lightning in my heart:
No, neither vanity, nor shame
Taints me, no kind of blame!
Bo you wish me to bare ray Sell glorious, rare?
Are you candid, sincere,

Then, why don’t you, Dear,
Take off all Thy clothes,
And Thyself do disclose?
Tear, tear out the blinds,
Don’t you hide behind,
No curtain, partition,
Name, fame or position,
Body, mind or possession,
Loves, hatreds and passion,
Claims, clingings, designs,
All “mine and thin” renounce, resign.
Tear, tear out the blinds,
Yourself don’t conceal,
Burn, burn off the seal,
Rend asunder the veil
Come hail, all hail!
Please don’t you delay,
I say,
To clasp Me, strip Thou naked bare,
And lo! ’tis Thou art me so fair,
So fair!
Delightful! Delicious! How lovely and sweet!

His covers I find my covers and sheets.
His blankets and quilts my blankets and quilts,
Lo! Off go the blankets!

Off covers and quilts,
He is I, I He,
No He, She, Me, or Thee.
OM! OM!

Yea, yea, ’tis so.
These forms of space and time
Are garments fine and covers rich, which half reveal
And half conceal that glorious love of mine.
My darling dear! Why veils and screens?
Are you ugly? Are you proud or shy?
Are you hurt by open appearance?
Why covers and curtains, why?

Pray, strip Thee naked do, I pray Thee, do, I pray,
I’ll have no Nay, Today.

They say the Sun is but His photo,
They say that man is in His image,
They say He twinkles in the stars,
They say He smiles in fragrant flowers,
They say He sings in nightingales,
They say He breathes in cosmic air,
They say He weeps in raining clouds,
They say He sleeps in winter nights,
They say He runs in prattling streams,
They say He swings in rainbow arches,
In floods of light, they say, He marches.

Oh! How could I get my Love’s likeness
Could anything like Him be conceived
Could He in cameras be received
Could Artist stand to take His picture?
Could He appear in colour and figure?
The camera of form did melt away
His flood of light was too much, too much,
O how could I get my Love’s likeness.

I focussed the mind to take His portrait,
Adjusted the eyes to take His portrait,
The camera of heart to take His portrait,
The apparatus all did melt away;
His flood of light was too much, too much.
O how could I get my Love’s likeness;
Then I’ll have him as I could not have likeness