To My Children

Believe! And if, while standing under a shower

That bursts in April from a yellow sun,

And roughens softened earth, and leaves a flower;

And if while breathing rain and petals growing,

It is enough that petals have begun-

Then let it be enough when skies are snowing,

When frost has come: like a perennial thing

Keep the faith sheltered in yourself till spring.

Believe! And if, like many a girl before,

Love is your hidden faith, then let it be!

The immaterial man whom you adore,

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Who is no higher than a man is high,

Who walks along, or stands indefinitely,

Be all the earth to you, be all the sky,

Be foreign countries you were dreaming of:

If love should be your faith, let it be love!

Or if, with shimmering streets of sun outside,

A well-worn door solicits and you falter,

Stepping at last through pillars that divide

Shadow and coolness; if like those who came

Bearing tall candles to an ancient altar,

You kneel on flagstones, and you cry God's name

As they did-when you journey out afar

Cry it as well, and kneel where candles are.

But if you find, wherever you make your search,

No loss of love enough for you to grieve in,

No yellow flowers and no ivied church

Enough to stir your faith, let it be stirred

If only by some twaddle you believe in,

If only by a dream, a transient word,

A hopelessness you have some hope in still-

However it can be, or however it will.

Marion Strobel

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