The gods are there, they hide their lordly faces
From you that will not kneel--
Worship, and they reveal,
Call--and 'tis they!
They have not changed, nor moved from their high places,
The stars stream past their eyes like drifted spray;
Lovely to look on are they as bright gold,
They are wise with beauty, as a pool is wise.
Lonely with lilies; very sweet their eyes--
Bathed deep in sunshine are they, and very cold.




III


BALLADE OF WOMAN

A woman! lightly the mysterious word
Falls from our lips, lightly as though we knew
Its meaning, as we say--a flower, a bird,
Or say the moon, the stream, the light, the dew,
Simple familiar things, mysterious too;
Or as a star is set down on a chart,
Named with a name, out yonder in the blue:
A woman--and yet how much more thou art!

So lightly spoken, and so lightly heard,
And yet, strange word, who shall thy sense construe?