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Forgive me, mother!
Back blew the casement, and rose-scented airs
Ruffled the pages. Thus once more he writes:
‘Forget thy kinsfolk and thy Father's house,
And live in Christ reborn! The bridal Rite
Is venerable, holy the marriage bed;
But high above the level of things good
Things better rise—things best. In olden time
Command went forth, “Behold, a man shall leave
Father and mother, cleaving to his wife;”
But lo! a lordlier challenge greets us now:
“Soul by God's Hand created unto God
For His sake count as dross all lesser things
So shall the King have pleasure in thy beauty.”
Unworthy art thou? Such unworthiness
Is worth with God. He, choosing from all lands,
Elects the Ethiopian, bids her sing,
“Dark am I, dark yet fair.”’