Thou pinnacled pain of the midnight,
Rose-strewer of daylit mire,
Transfiguration of our futile lives,
Dazzler into the secret courts of heaven--
Thou whose passion is written in all men's blood and tears
And in silver letters upon the books of God--
Make me to stand erect, and walk with danger,
And strive like a flame!
For Thou and I are struck as cymbals of God's exultation
In Life, His song!


TO PURITY

God knows that you are beautiful as Death
Chanced on in some hot, sunlit forest-clearing
Where--burst from tangled thickets, with desperate breath--
My outlawed heart might gasp at him appearing
So sudden and dazzling upon my rage and fearing,--
Such pale announcement, such quietude should endue
Tall, proud, grave Death, with noble footsteps nearing!
Immortal goddess, thus beautiful are you!

God knows that you are passionate as Life,
On rhythmic curves of bosom and limb attending,--
Sweet as clear water, and acid as a knife
Thrust through fresh fruit wherewith the bough is bending,--
Yet rule the riotous blood to Man's befriending,--
Yea, hush his ghastly tears the midnight through,
To flesh of flesh your ageless mystery lending.