I will go up the woods again,
And will let me in through a valued door,
To the sunlit nave, for there-
Nothing will matter anymore!
Here is a passive priestess dome,
With love and laughter and strife and stir.
She kindles candles and by one,
And does not swell on the things that were…
Walling her spirit with sky and earth.
She does her penance to sky and trees.
She sweep the floor with a holy mirth;
And joins in birds’ bright melodies…
But if ever a footfall woke the calm,
Till the tall ferns tremble and draw apart.
She will snuff the taper and still the Psalm;
And bar the door with a beating heart!! …