STILL must I climb, if I would rest:
The bird soars upward to his nest;
The young leaf on the treetop high
Cradles itself within the sky.
The streams, that seem to hasten down,
Return in clouds, the hills to crown;
The plant arises from her root,
To rock aloft her flower and fruit.
I cannot in the valley stay:
The great horizons stretch away!
The very cliffs that wall me round
Are ladders unto higher ground.
To work — to rest — for each a time;
I toil, but I must also climb:
What soul was ever quite at ease
Shut in by earthly boundaries?
I am not glad till I have known
Life that can lift me from my own:
A loftier level must be won,
A mightier strength to lean upon.
And heaven draws near as I ascend;
The breeze invites, the stars befriend:
All things are beckoning toward the Best:
I climb to thee, my God, for rest!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem