Nor can I forget the ages-old wisteria

Clambering over gray palace walls,

Nor the gamut of color in the azaleas there—

Pink, orange, cerise, yellow—

In pale green foliage.

[Pg 46]

[Pg 46]

 Joy

When your heavens are as brass

And joy has fled, and

Every door is shut,

Do not forget the one

That opens inward—

The door of your heart,

Whose handle is on the inside

And which only you can open.

Go out through that door

And find one whose skies

Are darker than yours,

Whose burden is heavier;

 Prev. P 33/36 next