The Soul's Five Servants

The Saint who scorns the world he’s in
     And rudely scoffs the good it offers,
Who counts our simple joys a sun,
     Shall have his place among the scoffers.
What right has he to hope that Heaven
     Will better suit his moody facies?
To spurn the sweets this world has given
     Will scarce improve his next world’s chances!

Who gave the beauty of the flowers?
     The morning’s age-returning splendor,
And filled the silent, moonlight hours
     With longings beautiful and tender?
And taught the human heart the bliss
     Of another-love, and gave all lovers
The mutual rapture of a kiss
     In grots where white-winged Eros hovers?

The Power who made creation fair
     Made me a worshipper of beauty;
His good gifts lavished everywhere
     Make joy and thankfulness a duty
All loveliness demands our love,
     All worth responsive recognition.
That soul insults the Throne above
     Who dooms our senses to perdition.

He gave the ear its power to catch
     The floods of joy the song lieds pour us,
The voice of love, the lays that match
     The anthems o the star-eyed choirs[?]
He shaped the eye to take delight
     In all the infinite charms of vision,
From stars that glorify the night,
     To cheeks that blush in bowers Ilysium.

He gave the life in nerves that thrill
     At Friendship’s grasp and Love’s caresses,—
That feel the pangs of mortal ill,
     And the warm touch that soothes and blesses.
The breath of pines and scented grass,
     And myriad odors ever nameless,
Soul-word through eager nostrils pass
     To meet a gladness frank and blameless.

All goodly fruits and savory meats
     Are offerings to the Taste he gave us,
No churlish interdict defeats
     The gift, to make our hunger save us.
Be welcomed all that earth can give!
     The Soul takes gladness from the senses
And teaching the warm clay to live
     Exalts it with fine influences.