Grow tender brothers and gay children once again;

Fades every hate away before the Mother's breast

Where all the exiles of the heart return to rest.

A NEW BEING

I know myself no more, my child,

Since thou art come to me,

Pity so tender and so wild

Hath wrapped my thoughts of thee.

These thoughts, a fiery gentle rain,

Are from the Mother shed,

Where many a broken heart hath lain

And many a weeping head.

 [24] 

[24]

THE MAN TO THE ANGEL

I have wept a million tears:

Pure and proud one, where are thine,

What the gain though all thy years

In unbroken beauty shine?

All your beauty cannot win

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