O Mother Earth, how couldst thou let him go?
Thy son, whose every touch was a caress
To blossom into all of loveliness-
This gentle son of thine who loved thee so!
Who lived a gospel humblest souls but know,
And voiced his faith in deeds that live and bless.
Lo, all the treasure of thy veins were less
Than this, the gold such Alchemist may show

Thou wert almost a heaven beyond compare
To him, wherein he witnessed everywhere
The Maker’s handwork; in each path he trod
And followed with his labor, like to prayer,
What soul has walked within a way more fair? -
A cleaner pathway to a surer God?

More verses by Ina D. Coolbrith