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Poem by Louisa Sarah Bevington


THROUGH the fathomless peace of the starlight,
Through the feverish travail of mind,
Through the love of the live heart within me,
I search,--and this ever I find:

Totality, busy creating,
Through being, the law that I see;
A universe steadily working
The work that shall render it free.

When the patience of law universal
Shall issue in mastery of law,--
When the freedom that grows of the "must be"
Shall reign in its infinite awe.

When virtue is lost in its issue,
When sweetly hath blossomed the rod,
The fruit of Totality's travail--
The ultimate rest--shall be "GOD."

Louisa Sarah Bevington

Louisa Sarah Bevington's other poems:
  1. Merle Wood
  2. Her Worst and Best
  3. Steel or Gold?
  4. Not Ye Who Goad
  5. Egoisme a Deux

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