Even when I bring you my songs for an offering I have the secret hope that men will come and love me for them.
You love to discover that I love this world where you have brought me.
Timidly I cowered in the shadow of safety, but now, when the surge of joy carries my heart upon its crest, my heart clings to the cruel rock of its trouble.
I sat alone in a corner of my house thinking it too narrow for any guest, but now when its door is flung open by an unbidden joy I find there is room for thee and for all the world.
I walked upon tiptoe, careful of my person, perfumed, and adorned-but now when a glad whirlwind has overthrown me in the dust I laugh and roll on the earth at thy feet like a child.
The world is yours at once and for ever.
And because you have no want, my king, you have no pleasure in your wealth.
It is as though it were naught. Therefore through slow time you give me what is yours, and ceaselessly win your kingdom in me.
Day after day you buy your sunrise from my heart, and you find your love carven into the image of my life.
To the birds you gave songs, the birds gave you songs in return.
You gave me only voice, yet asked for more, and I sing.
You made your winds light and they are fleet in their service.
You burdened my hands that I myself may lighten them, and at last, gain unburdened freedom for your service.
You created your Earth filling its shadows with fragments of light.