I Beseech Thee, Lord, For Naught!

I beseech Thee, Lord, for naught!
But cry aloud unto the sunlight
Who bathes the earth in gold,
And boldly breaketh into crannies
Yet unseen by man:
Flash thou in flaming sheen!
Mine own song of love doth falter,
And my throat, it is afail!
And thou, the greening shrub along the way,
And earth at bud-season,
Do thou then spurt thy shoots,
And pierce the air with loving!
And age-wabbled brother-
I do love thee for thy spending,
And I do gaze in loving at thy face,
Whereon I find, His peace,
And trace the withered cheek
For record of His love.
Around thy lips doth hang
The child-smile of a trusting heart;
And world hath vanished from thine eyes,
Bedimmed to guard thee at awakening.
Thou, too, art of my song of love.
I beseech Thee, Lord, for naught.
These hands are Thine for loving,
And this heart, already Thine, why offer it?
I beseech Thee, Lord, for naught.