I have no gallant words to shape a creed. I have no creed, perhaps, but shadow words. They lack all substance when my aching need Cries out for faith, the simple faith of birds That sing of certainty from a fragile nest. Instead these shifting patterns on the grass, Blown feathers from a southbound robin's breast And autumn tell me, "leaf and singer pass." Yet from the depths of earth's profoundest night Trees build their spires and arches toward the sun, Steeples of faith and towers of green delight, Holding no ritual and needing none. Faith is the springing sap. Why should I long For creeds more personal than a thrush's song! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SAVING WAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH PERSPECTIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SUNSET by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE FEAST OF LIGHTS by EMMA LAZARUS CONSECRATED GROUND; READ AT THE NEW YORK CITY HALL by EDWIN MARKHAM FROM FRANCE by ISAAC ROSENBERG |