But every flower was lifted on a thorn,
  And every thorn shot upright from its sands 130
To gall her feet; hoarse laughter pealed in scorn
  With cruel clapping hands.

She bled and wept, yet did not shrink; her strength
  Was strung up until daybreak of delight: 
She measured measureless sorrow toward its length,
  And breadth, and depth, and height.

Then marked I how a chain sustained her form,
  A chain of living links not made nor riven: 
It stretched sheer up through lighting, wind, and storm,
  And anchored fast in heaven. 140

One cried:  ’How long? yet founded on the Rock
  She shall do battle, suffer, and attain.’—­
One answered:  ’Faith quakes in the tempest shock: 
  Strengthen her soul again.’

I saw a cup sent down and come to her
  Brimfull of loathing and of bitterness: 
She drank with livid lips that seemed to stir
  The depth, not make it less.

But as she drank I spied a hand distil
  New wine and virgin honey; making it 150
First bitter-sweet, then sweet indeed, until
  She tasted only sweet.

Her lips and cheeks waxed rosy-fresh and young;
  Drinking she sang:  ‘My soul shall nothing want;’
And drank anew:  while soft a song was sung,
  A mystical slow chant.

One cried:  ’The wounds are faithful of a friend: 
  The wilderness shall blossom as a rose.’—­
One answered:  ’Rend the veil, declare the end,
  Strengthen her ere she goes.’ 160

Then earth and heaven were rolled up like a scroll;
  Time and space, change and death, had passed away;
Weight, number, measure, each had reached its whole;
  The day had come, that day.

Multitudes—­multitudes—­stood up in bliss,
  Made equal to the angels, glorious, fair;
With harps, palms, wedding-garments, kiss of peace
  And crowned and haloed hair.

They sang a song, a new song in the height,
  Harping with harps to Him Who is Strong and True:  170
They drank new wine, their eyes saw with new light,
  Lo, all things were made new.

Tier beyond tier they rose and rose and rose
  So high that it was dreadful, flames with flames: 
No man could number them, no tongue disclose
  Their secret sacred names.

As though one pulse stirred all, one rush of blood
  Fed all, one breath swept through them myriad-voiced,
They struck their harps, cast down their crowns, they stood
  And worshipped and rejoiced. 180

Each face looked one way like a moon new-lit,
  Each face looked one way towards its Sun of Love;
Drank love and bathed in love and mirrored it
  And knew no end thereof.

Glory touched glory on each blessed head,
  Hands locked dear hands never to sunder more: 
These were the new-begotten from the dead
  Whom the great birthday bore.