My mind in remembrance is green water by the sun.
I cannot forget the souls I met
who walk in starry faith by the kind warmth of love.
For how can I forget them
when they had loved the forgotten?
They had loved them as pictures unfolding with heavy glory
in the gleaming clouds of innocence.
I see white flowers like a soft moon in the daytime.
For they whom I love are like white flowers,
they move like tears of joy upon the universe.
And when dark beauty surrounds me
in the echoes of forever,
I think of them as a stream of these
the white flowers
which move in waters like nature’s king
in caves of dark midnight
where the sun has not been seen.
And so human thought cannot find
great value until these good dreams
will walk upon the sun
through a heart with words indescribable.
As thinking ought not to see
yet it beholds these thoughts all the same
like blinding light which makes us pure.
For the true measure of beauty is not in outward form
yet rather is in ideas and thoughts of which we consider
in the deep oceans of our hearts and in the moving strings of time.
And in these strings of which I speak is a balancing of elements
like the harmony of nature’s form
from which all thinking itself does come.
This good beauty I see within myself
through remembrance of these my kind friends
like a soft summer which brings good cheer
in the shadowy death of winter’s snow.