God said, “For you this bowl is life!
Draw near and look!
Therein is the bright water of dawn,
Night’s silver covering of rain!
Therein is dream lying like day,—
Topaz with sun upon it!
Lithe out of this bowl
Shall leap the larch in spring,
For this is love,—
Green flame of flight to the very tip!”

I looked into the bowl, wondering:
And night and dawn mingled
And sleep stirred
And the day turned in its dream,
And flame, flickering, swept the bowl’s lip.
Then I took the bowl in my two hands,
Thanking God.

But now in my bowl dawn breaks no more,
Over the bowl’s lip I hear the iron shudder of dry leaves
Beaten by frozen wind.
There is no rain to soften sleep,
No day like topaz in the sun,
I see the larch crumble to ash,—
My arms grow numb back to the very heart
Holding this bowl God gave to me!