The stars in succour gave their light,
  The aiding moon her ocean-sway;
At dawn and dusk the hosts of night
  Watched round the battle-fires of day ... 
To set the dust He loved aright
  God called His winds to that array,

And all the burden of the world,
  And all the tears from all men’s eyes,
Drought, dew, and every flower unfurled,
  The priest, the fire, the sacrifice,
The pillared cloud, His thunder hurled—­
  Victor, He held as nought the price!

Thus loved, thus wrought, God deemed the stone
Fit bed for beasts to lie upon.

* * * * *

O God of Gods, make short my days
  Of blind approach to her and Thee;
Life-long upon Thy rugged ways
  Her heart has danced:  she calls to me. 
Hast Thou forgotten me alone,
  O Watcher where the wild beast lies?—­
Mould to Thy will this other stone
  —­A stone, yet precious in her eyes.

LUX IN TENEBRIS

Spirit of smiles and tears, you came to me in the night,
The golden moon aglow in your hair, and the spear-driven light
Of an army of stars in your eyes, weary with truant sleep. 
O little skilled in self, who thought you came to weep!

Out of the darkness, light; flame in the virgin dew! 
Love came unto her own, and knew him not, who knew. 
O understood!  O known!  O apprehended bliss! 
O self unskilled in self!  O taught of my one kiss!

MATER INVIOLATA

A maiden’s love most nuptial is,
Innocent of his nuptial kiss;
And only after marriage call
Her lips, her passion, virginal!

For when she dreams, who is beloved,
The ancient miracle stands proved—­
Virginity’s much Motherhood! 
For O, the unborn babes she keeps,
The unthought glory, lips unwooed!—­
And O, the quickening of her sleeps
Whose dreams, dreamed over, do repeat
The echoes of Love’s falling feet! 
For his, her young inviolate mouth
Longs with the longing of long drouth: 
And, lacking substance for such feast,
She clasps a dream-baby to breast,
And kisses, where her head has place,
The dream-lips of her love’s dream-face!

On the decked bridal bed of Night
She knows the Moon shows maiden light—­
The Sun’s kiss urged in marriage-rite! 
So, when her very night shall come,
Virginal, in her virgin home
When stars show unfamiliar faces,
Laughing for love in their high places—­
When her essential lips are dumb
In a thronged panic of embraces—­
Her maiden heart, her spousal breast,
Shall throb, surrendered and possessed,
Throb, passion-sweet and ungainsaid—­
“Now at the last am I a Maid!”

SONG-BURDEN

I do confess I have no art
To tell the tale of my own heart.

Of lips and tears, of hearts and eyes,
I rhyme my rhymes and fear my fears;
And if of these I make you wise,
These pictured hearts, these lips, these tears,
There is nought to do; I have played my part.