"The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran, pg. 11 & 12
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver
in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and
shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked,
He sifts you to free you from your husks,
He grinds you to whiteness,
He kneads you until pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become one sacred bread for God's feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of the heart,
and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart ...
is to the crown and blessing of my life,
The much loved husband of a happy
To him whose constant passion found the art
To win a stubborn and
And to the world by tenderest proof discovers
who say that husbands can't be lovers.
With such return of passion, as is
Daphnis I love, Daphinis my thoughts pursue;
Daphnis, my hopes and
joys are bounded all in you.
Even I, for Daphnis' and my promise'
What I in woman censure, undertake.
But this from love, not vanity
You know who writes, and I who 'tis that reads.
Judge not my
passion by my want of skill:
Many love well, though they express it
And I your censure could with pleasure bear,
Would you but soon
return, and speak it here.