She walks—the lady of my delight—  A shepherdess of sheep. Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white; She guards them from the steep. She feeds them on the fragrant height, And folds them in for sleep.

She roams maternal hills and bright, Dark valleys safe and deep. Into that tender breast at night The chastest stars may peep. She walks—the lady of my delight—  A shepherdess of sheep.

p. 10She holds her little thoughts in sight, Though gay they run and leap. She is so circumspect and right; She has her soul to keep. She walks—the lady of my delight—  A shepherdess of sheep.

p. 10

p. 11“I AM THE WAY”

p. 11

Thou art the Way. Hadst Thou been nothing but the goal, I cannot say If Thou hadst ever met my soul.

I cannot see— I, child of process—if there lies An end for me, Full of repose, full of replies.

I’ll not reproach The way that goes, my feet that stir. Access, approach, Art Thou, time, way, and wayfarer.

p. 12VIA, ET VERITAS, ET VITA

p. 12

“You never attained to Him?” “If to attain Be to abide, then that may be.” “Endless the way, followed with how much pain!”  “The way was He.”

p. 13“WHY WILT THOU CHIDE?”

p. 13

Why wilt thou chide, Who hast attained to be denied? Oh learn, above All price is my refusal, Love. My sacred Nay Was never cheapened by the way. Thy single sorrow crowns thee lord Of an unpurchasable word.

Oh strong, Oh pure! As Yea makes happier loves secure, I vow thee this Unique rejection of a kiss. p. 14I guard for thee This jealous sad monopoly. I seal this honour thine. None dare Hope for a part in thy despair.

p. 14

p. 15THE LADY POVERTY

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