Part 27 (1/2)

Yea, as we walk in spiritual freedom Upright before the s.h.i.+ning face of G.o.d, Behold, as it were the shadow of our stature Thrown by that light, we draw the world behind us,-- That world wherein, darkly I remember, We thought we were as twain.

_She_.

Yet, since G.o.d means That love should sunder our fixt separateness And make our married spirits leap together, As lightning out of the clouds of s.e.xual flesh, Into one s.e.xless undivided joy; Why hath he made us a divided flesh?

We being single ecstasy, now as strange As if a shadow stained where no one stood The ground in the noon-glare, seemeth to me The long blind time wherein our lives and the world Lay stretcht out dark upon the light of heaven, Like shadow of some bulk that took the glory; While yet there stood not over it, to shade The splendour from it, our heaven-fronting love, This great new soul that our two souls have kindled.

Yea, and how like, that in the world's chance-medley This our exulting destiny had been slain, Though here it lords the world as a man his shadow!

_He_.

But the world is not chance, except to those Most feeble in desire: who needeth aught Shall have it, if he fill his soul with the need.

While still our ignorant lives were drowned beneath The flooding of the earthly fate, and chance Seemed pouring mightily dark and loud between us, Unspeakable news oft visited our hearts: We knew each other by desire; yea, spake Out of the strength of darkness flowing o'er us, Across the hindering outcry of the world One to another sweet desirable things.

Until at last we took such heavenly l.u.s.t Of those unheard messages into our lives, We were made abler than the worldly fate.

We held its random enmity as frost The storming Northern seas, and fastened it In likeness of our love's imagining; Or as a captain with his courage holds The mutinous blood of an army aghast with fear, And maketh it unwillingly dare his purpose, Our l.u.s.t of love struck its commandment deep Into the froward turbulence of world That parted us. Suddenly the dark noise Cleft and went backward from us, and we stood Knowing each other in a quiet light; And like wise music made of many strings Following and adoring underneath Prevailing song, fate lived beneath our love, Under the masterful excellent silence of it, A mult.i.tudinous obedience.

_She_.

Yea, but not this my marvel: not that we Should master with desire the sundering world, We who bore in our hearts such destiny, There was no force knew to be dangerous Against it, but must turn its malice clean Into obsequious favour wors.h.i.+pping us.

Rather hath this astonisht me, that we Have not for ever lived in this high hour.

Only to be twin elements of joy In this extravagance of Being, Love, Were our divided natures shaped in twain; And to this hour the whole world must consent.

Is it not very marvellous, our lives Can only come to this out of a long Strange sundering, with the years of the world between us?

_He_.

Shall life do more than G.o.d? for hath not G.o.d Striven with himself, when into known delight His unaccomplisht joy he would put forth,-- This mystery of a world sign of his striving?

Else wherefore this, a thing to break the mind With labouring in the wonder of it, that here Being--the world and we--is suffered to be!-- But, lying on thy breast one notable day, Sudden exceeding agony of love Made my mind a trance of infinite knowledge.

I was not: yet I saw the will of G.o.d As light unfas.h.i.+on'd, unendurable flame, Interminable, not to be supposed; And there was no more creature except light,-- The dreadful burning of the lonely G.o.d's Unutter'd joy. And then, past telling, came Shuddering and division in the light: Therein, like trembling, was desire to know Its own perfect beauty; and it became A cloven fire, a double flaming, each Adorable to each; against itself Waging a burning love, which was the world;-- A moment satisfied in that love-strife I knew the world!--And when I fell from there, Then knew I also what this life would do In being twain,--in being man and woman!

For it would do even as its endless Master, Making the world, had done; yea, with itself Would strive, and for the strife would into s.e.x Be cloven, double burning, made thereby Desirable to itself. Contrived joy Is s.e.x in life; and by no other thing Than by a perfect sundering, could life Change the dark stream of unappointed joy To perfect praise of itself, the glee that loves And wors.h.i.+ps its own Being. This is ours!

Yet only for that we have been so long Sundered desire: thence is our life all praise.-- But we, well knowing by our strength of joy There is no sundering more, how far we love From those sad lives that know a half-love only, Alone thereby knowing themselves for ever Sealed in division of love, and therefore made To pour their strength out always into their love's Fierceness, as green wood bleeds its hissing sap Into red heat of a fire! Not so do we: The cloven anger, life, hath left to wage Its flame against itself, here turned to one Self-adoration.--Ah, what comes of this?

The joy falters a moment, with closed wings Wearying in its upward journey, ere Again it goes on high, bearing its song, Its delight breathing and its vigour beating The highest height of the air above the world.

_She_.

What hast thou done to me!--I would have soul, Before I knew thee, Love, a captive held By flesh. Now, inly delighted with desire, My body knows itself to be nought else But thy heart's wors.h.i.+p of me; and my soul Therein is sunlight held by warm gold air.

Nay, all my body is become a song Upon the breath of spirit, a love-song.

_He_.

And mine is all like one rapt faculty, As it were listening to the love in thee, My whole mortality trembling to take Thy body like heard singing of thy spirit.

_She_.

Surely by this, Beloved, we must know Our love is perfect here,--that not as holds The common dullard thought, we are things lost In an amazement that is all unware; But wonderfully knowing what we are!

Lo, now that body is the song whereof Spirit is mood, knoweth not our delight?

Knoweth not beautifully now our love, That Life, here to this festival bid come Clad in his splendour of worldly day and night, Filled and empower'd by heavenly l.u.s.t, is all The glad imagination of the Spirit?

_He_.

Were it not so, Love could not be at all: Nought could be, but a yearning to fulfil Desire of beauty, by vain reaching forth Of sense to hold and understand the vision Made by impa.s.sion'd body,--vision of thee!

But music mixt with music are, in love, Bodily senses; and as flame hath light, Spirit this nature hath imagined round it, No way concealed therein, when love comes near, Nor in the perfect wedding of desires Suffering any hindrance.

_She_.