Part 6 (1/2)

Unto them that weep apart,-- While you glow, within, Wreckt, despairing kin,-- Dark with misery: --Do not blind my heart!_

_You, close Heart!

Never hide from mine Worlds that I divine Through thy human dearness.

O beloved Nearness, Hallow all I understand With thy hand-in-hand;-- All the lights I seek, With thy cheek-to-cheek; All the loveliness I loved apart._

_You, heart's Home!-- Wall not in my heart._

CANTICLE OF THE BABE

I

Over the broken world, the dark gone by, Horror of outcast darkness torn with wars; And timeless agony Of the white fire, heaped high by blinded Stars, Unfaltering, unaghast;-- Out of the midmost Fire At last,--at last,-- Cry! ...

O darkness' one desire,-- O darkness, have you heard?-- Black Chaos, blindly striving towards the Word?

--The Cry!

Behold thy conqueror, Death!

Behold, behold from whom It flutters forth, that triumph of First-Breath, Victorious one that can but breathe and cling,-- This pulsing flower,--this weaker than a wing, Halcyon thing!-- Cradled above unfathomable doom.

II

Under my feet, O Death, Under my trembling feet!

Back, through the gates of h.e.l.l, now give me way.

I come.--I bring new Breath!

Over the trampled shards of mine own clay, That smoulder still, and burn, Lo, I return!

Hail, singing Light that floats Pulsing with chorused motes:-- Hail to thee, Sun, that lookest on all lands!

And take thou from my weak undying hands, A precious thing, unblemished, undefiled:-- Here, on my heart uplift, Behold the Gift,-- Thy glory and my glory, and my child!

III

(_And our eyes were opened; eyes that had been holden.

And I saw the world, and the fruits thereof.

And I saw their glories, scarlet-stained and golden, All a crumbled dust beneath the feet of Love.

And I saw their dreams, all of nothing worth; But a path for Love, for Him to walk above, And I saw new heaven, and new earth._)

IV

The gra.s.s is full of murmurs; The sky is full of wings; The earth is full of breath.

With voices, choir on choir With tongues of fire, They sing how Life out-sings-- Out-numbers Death.

V

Who are these that fly; As doves, and as doves to the windows?

Doves, like hovering dreams round Love that slumbereth; Silvering clouds blown by, Doves and doves to the windows,-- Warm through the radiant sky their wings beat breath.

They are the world's new-born: Doves, doves to the windows!