The Teaching Autobiography, Contents: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Photo 1 Photo 2 Photo 3 Photo 4
The softest sound is the sigh of the sea
When the tide is far out at the ebb
At the quietest time, when the sun's not yet
But the darkness of night time has fled
And a little cool breeze blows out of the east,
Bringing with it a hint of the dawn,
And there's no other sound, but the splash of the waves
And the plaint of the wind for the morn.
It's the little things that draw me back,
Fairy shells in storm tossed wrack,
Crooked shadows cross starlit sea,
Circling storm birds calling me,
Wave wet sand and flying foam,
Fleeting lights of a lost home.
to the Mother
Hold Love in your eyes and the darkness lifts,
Dawn breaks in a clearer sky.
Same flowers, same trees that the grey mist hid,
Same colour that does not die.
A tree with its roots held fast in the earth
Lifts its branches up to the sky.
What magic is held in the whispering leaves,
When the winds go hurrying by?
The creatures large, or the Little Things small,
That shelter under the shade,
The gentle moon that looks down upon them,
God's in the things He has made.
Keep Love in your mind and your faith in men,
A thing that is hard to hold,
Is a guiding light in your path and theirs,
A thing neither bought nor sold.
With Love in your hands, then the human touch
Holds in it something Divine.
So lift up your face to the morning sun,
The fault and its shadow is mine.
Hold Love in your heart and you must lift up
From the little light that you were,
Through the warp and the weft of your pattern's loom,
To the light that is always there.
Hold all these three and the gift is yours.
You have the key to the door.
The One that is Three and the Three that are One,
The single and only Law.
'Beauty' expresses the contrast felt between 'going up' and the return to earth.
If, you would find the Way and would know the Will,
Gaze at the lonely snows pierced by black rocks
And hearken to the cold clean wind of truth,
To the soft sorrow of the slanting rain,
And seeing, hearing, not have sought in vain.
Look at the sky near the horizon's rim
When the sun sets, before the light is dim,
Lakes of pure green between the island clouds,
Through which the mind's drawn wandering
In utter stillness. Till the silence breaks
Into that deep where throbs eternity,
But then falls back into this lesser world
Constricted by the narrow bands of time
Where happiness is shadowed by dark pain
And careless laughter's echo, hark is grief.
Where good is measured out by act and deed
Whilst thought is left to straggle like a weed.
Ah Azrael; when you shut the door and go
Have you no pity for me, left below.
A shallot, layer under layer shaped in beauty.
An iris, glowing, precise, heraldic trinity.
A chinese goose berry, halved, intricate patterned.
Wings and scrolls of winddriven clouds.
Hills and mountains, fold upon fold sunlit or shadowed.
A woman's form bent, or face uplifted watching these things.
'A Protest', addressed to the Church, is its own explanation.
The peace passing man's understanding
How can it come then to you !
If you will insist upon knowing
And seeing that others know too.
My road may not be your road
There are many ways to the Will,
But they all have the same beginning,
Be silent and listen, be still.
My road was the call of music,
Others have heard that call too,
But I did not force you to listen,
Why must I listen to you ?
Magic has gone and mystery's come instead
The world grows darker and the light has fled,
The sea all grey, in sullen motion surges,
There is no line where sky and water merges.
Daylight is dying and the sky is wan,
The last leaf's fallen and the last flower gone.
Wrapped round in autumn mist and weeping rain,
Can you believe that spring will come again?
Azrael! What can the future hold in store
To compensate the shutting of the door.
Time does not heal but fogs the weary mind.
The path grows steeper and the Way is hard to find.
TWO SHALL BE BORN
Two shall be born the whole
Wide world apart,And speak in different tongues
And have no thought
Each of the other's being, and
Have no need,
And these o'er unknown seas
To unknown lands
Shall cross, esacping wreck
And all unconsciously shape
To this one end:
That one day out of darkness
They shall meet,
And read life's meaning in
Each other's eyes.
(9) The following poems were found in an older version of the autobiography and are here reproduced in a chapter 17 added by the editors. Back to text.