THE OLD WISDOM When the night wind makes the pine trees creak And the pale clouds glide across the dark sky, Go out, my child, go out and seek Your soul: the Eternal I. For all the grasses rustling at your feet And every flaming star that glitters high Above you, close up and meet In you: the Eternal I. Yes, my child, go out into the world; walk slow And silent, comprehending all, and by and by Your soul, the Universe, will know Itself: the Eternal I.
