Part 3 (1/2)

”Oh, Adam! What have I dreamed?

Now do I understand His words, so dim To creatures that had quivered but with bliss!

Since at the dusk thy kiss to me, and I Wept at caresses that were once all joy, I have slept, seeing through Futurity The uncreated ages visibly!

Foresuffering phantoms crowded in the womb Of Time, and all with lamentable mien Accusing without mercy, thee and me!

And without pity! for tho' some were far From birth, and without name, others were near-- Sodom and dark Gomorrah--from whose flames Fleeing one turned ... how like her look to mine When the tree's horror trembled on my taste!

And Babylon upbuilded on our sin; And Nineveh, a city sinking slow Under a shroud of sandy centuries That hid me not from the buried cursing eyes Of women who e'er-bitterly gave birth!

Ah, to be mother of all misery!

To be first-called out of the earth and fail For a whole world! To shame maternity For women evermore--women whose tears Flooding the night, no hope can wipe away!

To see the wings of Death, as, Adam, thou Hast not, endlessly beating, and to hear The swooning ages suffer up to G.o.d!

And Oh, that birth-cry of a guiltless child In it are sounding of our sin and woe, With prophesy of ill beyond all years!

Yearning for beauty never to be seen-- Beat.i.tude redeemless evermore!

”And I whose dream mourned with all motherhood Must hear it soon! Already do soft skill, a.s.suasive lulls, enticings and quick tones Of tenderness--that will like light awake The folded memory children shall bring Out of the dark--move in me longingly.

Yet thou, Adam, dear fallen thought of G.o.d, Thou, when thou too shall hear humanity Cry in thy child, wilt groaning wish the world Back in unsummoned Void! and, woe! wilt fill G.o.d's ear with troubled wonder and unrest!”

Softly he soothed her straying hair, and kissed The fever from her lips. Over the palms The sad moon poured her peace into their eyes, Till Sleep, the angel of forgetfulness, Folded again dark wings above their rest.

MARY AT NAZARETH

I know, Lord, Thou hast sent Him-- Thou art so good to me!-- But Thou hast only lent Him, His heart's for Thee!

I dared--Thy poor hand-maiden-- Not ask a prophet-child: Only a boy-babe laden For earth--and mild.

But this one Thou hast given Seems not for earth--or me!

His lips flame truth from heaven, And vanity

Seem all my thoughts and prayers When He but speaks Thy Law; Out of my heart the tares Are torn by awe!

I cannot look upon Him, So strangely burn His eyes-- Hath not some grieving drawn Him From Paradise?

For Thee, for Thee I'd live, Lord!

Yet oft I almost fall Before Him--Oh, forgive, Lord, My sinful thrall!

But e'en when He was nursing, A baby at my breast, It seemed He was dispersing The world's unrest.

Thou bad'st me call Him ”Jesus,”

And from our heavy sin I know He shall release us, From Sheol win.

But, Lord, forgive! the yearning That He may sometimes be Like other children, learning Beside my knee,

Or playing, prattling, seeking For help--comes to my heart....