Again the Muse:  Thou dost not understand; A thought within thy song is lingering yet. Sing but of words; all else forget, forget. Nor let thy words convey one thought to men. Try once again.

Down through the dusk and dew there fell a word; Down through the dew and dusk. And all the garments of the air it stirred Smelled sweet as musk; And all the little waves of air it kissed Turned cold and amethyst.

p. 66There in the dew and dusk a heart it found; There in the dusk and dew The sodden silence changed to fragrant sound; And all the world seemed new. Upon the path that little word had trod,  There shone the smile of God.

p. 66

The Muse said, Drop thy lyre. I tire, I tire.

p. 67THE SPINSTER

p. 67

I

Here are the orchard trees all large with fruit; And yonder fields are golden with young grain. In little journeys, branchward from the nest, A mother bird, with sweet insistent cries, Urges her young to use their untried wings. A purring Tabby, stretched upon the sward, Shuts and expands her velvet paws in joy, While sturdy kittens nuzzle at her breast.

O mighty Maker of the Universe, Am I not part and parcel of Thy World, And one with Nature? Wherefore, then, in me Must this great reproductive impulse lie Hidden, ashamed, unnourished, and denied, Until it starves to slow and tortuous death? p. 68I knew the hope of spring-time; like the tree Now ripe with fruit, I budded, and then bloomed; We laughed together through the young May morns; We dreamed together through the summer moons; Till all Thy purposes within the tree Were to fruition brought. Lord, Thou hast heard The Woman in me crying for the Man; The Mother in me crying for the Child; And made no answer. Am I less to Thee Than lover forms of Nature, or in truth Dost Thou hold Somewhere in another Realm Full compensation and large recompense For lonely virtue forced by fate to live A life unnatural, in a natural world?

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II

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