Praise for Him

And if I find you beautiful, what then?

Shall I not take my pleasure in the line

Of your clean chiseled nostril, and the fine

Crisp curve your hair makes on your forehead? Men

Are plenty who are dull and dutiful.

I owe you thanks that you are beautiful.

And if your spirit's vividness is such

That with the swiftness of a flight of birds

Rises the covey of your colored words, _

Where is the song shall praise you overmuch ?

I hold no brief for pious lividness;

I thank you for your spirit's vividness.

And if your soul-"Is there a soul?" "Perhaps;

At least admit it as a way men speak."-

Your soul then, lonely as a mountain peak

And naked as a fawn, if it can lapse

Sheer outward from the rim of things I see,

Well! Still I'm thankful for your liberty.