Half a little hour,
Baby bright in bower,
Keep this thought aflower—­

Love it is, I see,
Here with heart and knee
Bows and worships me.

What can baby do,
Then, for love so true?—­
Let it worship you.

VII.

Baby, baby wise,
Love’s divine surmise
Lights your constant eyes.

Day and night and day
One mute word would they,
As the soul saith, say.

Trouble comes and goes;
Wonder ebbs and flows;
Love remains and glows.

As the fledgeling dove
Feels the breast above,
So your heart feels love.

PELAGIUS.

I.

The sea shall praise him and the shores bear part
  That reared him when the bright south world was black
  With fume of creeds more foul than hell’s own rack,
Still darkening more love’s face with loveless art
Since Paul, faith’s fervent Antichrist, of heart
  Heroic, haled the world vehemently back
  From Christ’s pure path on dire Jehovah’s track,
And said to dark Elisha’s Lord, ‘Thou art.’ 
But one whose soul had put the raiment on
Of love that Jesus left with James and John
  Withstood that Lord whose seals of love were lies,
Seeing what we see—­how, touched by Truth’s bright rod,
The fiend whom Jews and Africans called God
  Feels his own hell take hold on him, and dies.

II.

The world has no such flower in any land,
  And no such pearl in any gulf the sea,
  As any babe on any mother’s knee. 
But all things blessed of men by saints are banned: 
God gives them grace to read and understand
  The palimpsest of evil, writ where we,
  Poor fools and lovers but of love, can see
Nought save a blessing signed by Love’s own hand. 
The smile that opens heaven on us for them
  Hath sin’s transmitted birthmark hid therein: 
    The kiss it craves calls down from heaven a rod. 
If innocence be sin that Gods condemn,
  Praise we the men who so being born in sin
    First dared the doom and broke the bonds of God.

III.

Man’s heel is on the Almighty’s neck who said,
  Let there be hell, and there was hell—­on earth. 
  But not for that may men forget their worth—­
Nay, but much more remember them—­who led
The living first from dwellings of the dead,
  And rent the cerecloths that were wont to engirth
  Souls wrapped and swathed and swaddled from their birth
With lies that bound them fast from heel to head. 
Among the tombs when wise men all their lives
Dwelt, and cried out, and cut themselves with knives,
These men, being foolish, and of saints abhorred,
  Beheld in heaven the sun by saints reviled,
Love, and on earth one everlasting Lord
  In every likeness of a little child.