And tore my tunic off, and there I stood
Before them all. . . .  Husband! you love me still? 
Indeed I pleaded!  Oh, shine out, kind moon,
And let me see him smile!  Oh! how I prayed,
While some cried ‘Shame!’ and some, ‘She is too young!’
And some mocked—­ugly words:  God shut my ears. 
And yet no earthquake came to swallow me. 
While all the court around, and walls, and roofs,
And all the earth and air were full of eyes,
Eyes, eyes, which scorched my limbs like burning flame,
Until my brain seemed bursting from my brow: 
And yet no earthquake came!  And then I knew
This body was not yours alone, but God’s—­
His loan—­He needed it:  and after that
The worst was come, and any torture more
A change—­a lightening; and I did not shriek—­
Once only—­once, when first I felt the whip—­
It coiled so keen around my side, and sent
A fire-flash through my heart which choked me—­then
I shrieked—­that once.  The foolish echo rang
So far and long—­I prayed you might not hear. 
And then a mist, which hid the ring of eyes,
Swam by me, and a murmur in my ears
Of humming bees around the limes at home;
And I was all alone with you and God. 
And what they did to me I hardly know;
I felt, and did not feel.  Now I look back,
It was not after all so very sharp: 
So do not pity me.  It made me pray;
Forget my shame in pain, and pain in you,
And you in God:  and once, when I looked down,
And saw an ugly sight—­so many wounds! 
‘What matter?’ thought I.  ’His dear eyes are dark;
For them alone I kept these limbs so white—­
A foolish pride!  As God wills now.  ‘Tis just.’ 
   But then the judge spoke out in haste:  ’She is mad,
Or fenced by magic arts!  She feels no pain!’
He did not know I was on fire within: 
Better he should not; so his sin was less. 
Then he cried fiercely, ’Take the slave away,
And crucify her by her husband’s side!’
And at those words a film came on my face—­
A sickening rush of joy—­was that the end? 
That my reward?  I rose, and tried to go—­
But all the eyes had vanished, and the judge;
And all the buildings melted into mist: 
So how they brought me here I cannot tell—­
Here, here, by you, until the judgment-day,
And after that for ever and for ever! 
Ah!  If I could but reach that hand!  One touch! 
One finger tip, to send the thrill through me
I felt but yesterday!—­No!  I can wait:—­
Another body!—­Oh, new limbs are ready,
Free, pure, instinct with soul through every nerve,
Kept for us in the treasuries of God. 
They will not mar the love they try to speak,
They will not fail my soul, as these have done!
. . . . . 
Will you hear more?  Nay—­you know all the rest: 
Yet those poor eyes—­alas! they could not see
My waking, when you hung above me there
With hands outstretched to bless the penitent—­