R.C.F.

October 6, 1917.

SONNETS

PROLOGUE

  As one who wanders lone and wearily
  Through desert tracts of Silence and of Night,
  Pining for Lovers keen utterance and for light,
  And chasing shadowy forms that mock and flee,
  My soul was wandering through Eternity,
  Seeking, within the depth and on the height
  Of Being, one with whom it might unite
  In life and love and immortality;

  When lo! she stood before me, whom I’d sought,
  With dying hope, through life’s decaying years—­
  A form, a spirit, human yet divine. 
  Love gave her eyes the light of heav’n, and taught
  Her lips the mystic music of the spheres. 
  Our beings met,—­I felt her soul in mine;

I

REBIRTH

  To me no mortal but a spirit blest,
  A Light-girt messenger of Love art thou—­
  The radiant star of Hope upon thy brow. 
  The thrice-pure fire of Love within thy breast! 
  Thou comest to me as a heavenly guest,
  As God’s fulfilment of the purest vow
  Love’s heart e’er made—­thou com’st to show e’en now
  The Infinite, th’ Eternal and the Best!

  I clasp thy feet,—­O fold me in thy wings,
  And place thy pure white hands upon my head,
  And breathe, O breathe, thy love-breath o’er mine eyes
  Till, like the flame that from dark ashes springs,
  My chastened spirit, from a self that’s dead,
  Upon the wings of Love shall heav’nward rise.

II

THE CROWN OF LIFE

  I know not what Love is,—­a memory
  Of Heav’n once known,—­a yearning for some goal
  That shines afar,—­a dream that doth control
  The spirit, shadowing forth what is to be. 
  But this I know, my heart hath found in thee
  The crown of life, the glory of the soul,
  The healing of all strife, the making whole
  Of my imperfect being,—­yea, of me!

  For to mine eyes thine eyes, through Love, reveal
  The smile of God; to me God’s healing breath
  Comes through thy hallowed lips whose pray’r is Love. 
  Thy touch gives life!  And oh, let me but feel
  Thy hovering hand my closing eyes above,—­
  Then, then, my soul will triumph over Death.

III

BEFORE THE THRONE

  When on thy brow I gaze and in thine eyes—­
  Eyes heavy-laden with the soul’s desire,
  Not passion-lit, but lit with Heav’n’s own fire—­
  I have a vision of Love’s Paradise. 
  Gazing, my tranced spirit straightway flies
  Beyond the zone to which the stars aspire;
  I hear the blent notes of the white-wing’d quire
  Around Immortal Love triumphant rise.