“THE BLOOM UPON THE GRAPE”

The bloom upon the grape I ask no more,

Nor pampered fragrance of the soft-lipped rose,

I only ask of Him who keeps the Door —

To open it for one who fearless goes

Into the dark, from which, reluctant, came

His innocent heart, a little laughing flame;

I only ask that he who gave me sight,

Who gave me hearing and who gave me breath,

Give me the last gift in His flaming hand —

The holy gift of Death.