Joakim Bergen

Divine!

I have burgeoned once, as Lilies do,

And given forth delightful fragrance.

In the shadow of Spring’s cloudy sky,

Did I live, if only for a moment; my

Lungs filled with air of ages, my eyes

Seeing glory of Man, the swelling of

 

Heavens, the golden rain! O, to live for

A second only and then to fall and scatter,

I would spare it no moment to think of

Such offer; divine is the world, when eyes

Of he are cheerfully observing every dewdrop,

And the flap of butterflies wings on the soft wind.

 

Divine!

 

Divine the rivers that, flowing,

Animate the forests, mirroring the beauty

And increasing it, thousandfold; still, more divine

Is the swelling of the sky in Spring, when heat

And humid winds in violet dusk, embraced, bring

Forth rain, which, softly caressing the leaves and

 

Petals of forest’s menagerie, glistens as gold in

Sun’s light! O, what beauties are made manifest, if he,

Who blindly wanders, adjourned with worry and

Fear, looks upon the world with child’s eyes! Divine!

The peaks and prairies, sea-waves and dunes of desert

Too, each beautiful and, God-revealing, perfected in

 

The dying light of the day!