Classic Poem

JOSEPH , my husband, I pray you, come,
Throw down the adz and leave the little shop.
I have great news, something, my love, I dreamed
Or else I saw it. Here where the step is smooth
Worn with the faithful passing of your feet,
Let us sit down, for I have news to tell.

Such news, my lover, oh, such good, good news.
Look at me, Joseph, read it in my eyes.
Surely you see it; nay, but you're a man,
And men are slower—See, you know, you know.

Is it not strange that love can be so still?
One moment earth is humdrum—nothing more;
Linen to whiten, floors to sweep and sand,
Butter to mold and olives to be culled,
And oh, the weary ache of back and knee—
Then a great rush of flaming splendid wings,
A face that blinds one with strange loveliness,
A voice that conquers all abyss of space,
And earth has leaped to heaven at a bound.

And so, my Joseph, I had set the curd
To harden in the window-ledge and turned
Back to the table where I pressed it out;
I heard a swallow underneath the eves,
I felt the vineyard musk blow in the door,
My heart stopped beating,—and I knew.

Oh, I have longed, my Joseph, for this hour,
And wondered, sometimes, if my flesh could bear
The great sudden leaping of my soul, feared almost
—That was before I knew you, years ago,
When I was yet a slender, wide-eyed girl
Cuddling wee, strange-made babies at my breast,
With knobs for noses and round funny ears,
Little gourd-babies, but I loved them so.

Then I grew older, and went to the well,
And brought the heavy, earthen pitchers home,
But scarcely heard my mother's gentle voice
Bidding me hasten, for I dreamed I felt
My arms grow burdened with a load that clung
And pressed my bosom with a tiny hand.

And then you came … I stood beside the door
And saw you turn the little narrow street,
Dusty with travel, but your eyes were true.
I loved you, Joseph, as I love you now.
For you have been so patient and so kind,
So strong to lean on and so gentle when
You could have been so cruel. Surely, God
Has walked beside me like a tender friend,
And I have known His mercy, dear, in you.

I do not think that God is far away.
They say that Abram knew him as a friend,
And Moses saw him on Mount Sinai,
And Samuel heard him calling in the night:
Surely, he does not leave us all alone;
I think I could not live if God were not.
Even with you, my Joseph, there are times
I do not miss you as I ought to do,
Yet if God left me, Joseph, I should die.

See, here I lean upon you and my lips
Meet yours; your hand is welded with my own,
Yet are we separated though I yearn
To press you closer. Love, we cannot meet.
There are strange bars that God has set between
All lovers since he made the first to love.
Only through Him who moves within us both
Are we made one who else were sundered flesh;
And God is nearer to the two of us
Than I to you or you to me. 'Tis best,
For were we mingled, water into wine,
We should forget, in loving, God who loves.

He speaks forever in the threes of life,
Husband and wife and little clinging child,
And in our baby, Joseph, God comes down.
Something, my husband, is there yet to do,
Together we shall labor, you and I,
And he shall know, our little laughing son,
How near to heaven is a perfect home.

We cannot shield him from the storming years,
We cannot feed him but with homely fare,
And he must stagger through life's sweat and pain;
Yet have we something Cæsar could not buy,
Nor haughty Herod in his purple ease,
And he shall have it richly without stint,
The perfect tribute of unselfishness,
Our love, my husband, and his heritage.

And he shall know it when he is a man
How God can stoop and walk with men in love,
And lean upon them with a friendly arm,
And mingle with earth's lovers when they cling,
Till every baby is a child of God.
And he shall call all men to walk with God,
Women and children shall be lead and love,
Strong with great hands that clasp men to his heart,
Pure with white faith that makes the blind to see,
Melting the deaf ear with his tenderness,
Till men shall hear the very speech of God,
Knowing our son's hand on them, and his eyes
Deep with all knowledge, remembering our love.

So shall we do our little in God's world,
Not by mad deeds that set the hills ablaze
And thunder down the avenues of time;
But just by loving with a love so great,
So pure and strong and sweet and wonderful
That God himself will stoop and call it good;
I think there is much blessing in a home.
—Now I am weary, Joseph; help me in.