Gather, O gather,
Foeman and friend in love and peace!
Waves sleep together
When the blasts that called them to battle, cease.
For fangless Power grown tame and mild
Is at play with Freedom's fearless child--
The dove and the serpent reconciled!

My God, Thyself being Love Thy heart is love,
And love Thy Will and love Thy Word to us,
Whether Thou show us depths calamitous
Or heights and flights of rapturous peace above.
O Christ the Lamb, O Holy Ghost the Dove,
Reveal the Almighty Father unto us;
That we may tread Thy courts felicitous,
Loving Who loves us, for our God is Love.
Lo, if our God be Love thro' heaven's long day,
Love is He thro' our mortal pilgrimage,
Love was He thro' all aeons that are told.
We change, but Thou remainest; for Thine age

If the nose of the pig in the market of Firenze
has lost its matte patina, and shines, brassy,
even in the half light; if the mosaic saint
on the tiles of the Basilica floor is half gone,
worn by the gravity of solid soles, the passing
of piety; if the arms of Venus have reentered
the rubble, taken by time, her perennial lover,
mutilating even the memory of beauty;
and if
the mother, hiding with her child from
the death squads of brutality,
if she, trying to keep the child

Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise,
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!

O loving wisdom of our God!
When all was sin and shame,
A second Adam to the fight
And to the rescue came.

O wisest love! that flesh and blood,
Which did in Adam fail,
Should strive afresh against the foe,
Should strive and should prevail;

And that a higher gift than grace
Should flesh and blood refine,
God's presence and His very Self,
And Essence all-divine.

XII

Was I never yet of your love grieved
Nor never shall while that my life doth last.
But of hating myself that date is past,
And tears continual sore have me wearied.
I will not yet in my grave be buried
Nor on my tomb your name yfixed fast
As cruel cause that did the spirit soon haste
From th'unhappy bones by great sighs stirred.
Then if an heart of amorous faith and will
May content you without doing grief,
Please it you so to this to do relief.
If otherwise ye seek for to fulfil
Your disdain, ye err and shall not as ye ween,

The pretty flowers were springing
In fields and meadows green
The little birds were singing
Where winter floods had been
Where I went to see my true love
Along the meadow way
Neath the willow rows and dew love
A courting Lucy Grey.

A bonny hat of finest straw
And ribbons black and blue
Her lips the bright and glossy haw
Her cheeks the roses dipt in dew
O she was fair as ony thing
And beautiful as gay
Blythe as a bonny morn o' spring
Was my sweet Lucy Grey.

O we loved and walked together

Kind fostering mother, let thy favouring care
Turn from the youthful band the yielding fair;
With love of aged swains their breasts inspire;
Weak though their limbs, yet strong is their desire.

CLIII

From thought to thought, from hill to hill love doth me lead.
Clean contrary from restful life these common paths I tread.

OW ORLD ! somewhat I have to say to thee.
O sin-sick, heart-sick, soul-sick, love-sick World!
So ailing art thou, both in part and particle,
That solid truth thy stomach ill digests.
Yet, since thou art my mother, I will love thee,
And heedless of thy frowns, “will speak right on.”

That which belongs to all men is least prized;
The thing most common is least understood.
That which is deep and silent is divine;
And there is nought on earth so craved, so common,
So misunderstood, or so divine, as Love.
When meted in proportion to man's need,

I send home your glove, my darling!
Darling! love and true!
Yester-eve left where you sat by me;
And my heart goes with it to you.

Goes with it all love and devotion,
To win sweet looks from your eyes,
Like the flower which, thirsting in Summer,
For the sweet rain at noon-day sighs.

I send it, yet fain would keep it,
For the little hand that, in mine,
Yester-eve so lovingly nestled,
When your kisses were sweeter than wine.

Come back soon!—I pine, my darling!
For the clasp of your hand again;