You who have strained past sound and heard the cry
of sun and rain and tenderness in your child,
you who can recognise by gift of eye
Earth’s grace-green oval leaves, so finely styled,
you on whose human love Art likes to call,
you who have drawn and painted, danced and sung,
you who can tell the parts, who show the all,
in whose rare wholeness Truth has found its tongue –
I who have listened to and loved that voice,
I who have shared that wholeness by being part,
have felt Art touch you, let my eyes rejoice
with yours at beauty, and our children’s heart
have held as if my own, I who could never
leave . . . if I leave you now, am with you ever.

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