by Robert Laurence Binyon
Life from sunned peak, witched wood, and flowery dell
A hundred ways the eager spirit wooes,
To roam, to dream, to conquer, to rebel:
Yet in its ear a voice cries ever, Choose!
So many ways, yet only one shall find;
So many joys, yet only one shall bless;
So many creeds, yet to each pilgrim mind
One road to the divine forgetfulness.
Tongues talk of truth: but truth is only found
Where the heart runs to be out--poured utterly,
Like streams whose home is in their motion, bound
To follow one faith and in that be free.
O Love, since I have found one truth so true,
Let me lose all, to lose my loss in you.
Last updated January 14, 2019