Take home this heart. It has been lost.

It has born wandering in the world alone,

Inland and seaward, hill, and cape and coast,

Wanting a homeland altar of its own.

I looked at leaves; at books; at sunlit stone;

In fire at its imaginary view.

The weather-vane said where the wind had gone.

So lines upon my hand told nothing new.

I rubbed the colors of the world away.

Nothing was left but form, and that was strange,-

Not human, for I saw it would not die,

But last forever, and forever change.

I went toward sunlight, where the wisest go

And saw such life contending with such death,

I cut the hateful paradox in two;

Then in the sudden darkness caught my breath.

And learned the truth. I seized the severed ends.

With fingers numb I tied the precious knot.

Mortality lay certain in my hands,

The simple answer so profoundly sought.

The streets are false and foreign where we go,-

The hills mean nothing you and I can guess;

The new year wheels the quartered season through,-

Not to reward us, or to bruise, or bless,

But an antiphony to all our thought,

Inevitable and universal voice,

Whether we grieve or laugh, or love, or not,

Or murder or beget, and so rejoice.

Let all out thought be of each other now,

Gentle as time is not; and be so plain,

So patient in our love, that each will know

His fear of mortal loneliness is vain.

I listened north and went for natural words,

But nothing spoke by day or sang by night,

Nothings from leafy earths or heaven starred,

Like human wrath and wisdom and delight.

Take home my heart, then, into yours

And light the waiting fire, and close the doors.

And let me in the firelight touch your face,

And tell you love has led me to this place.