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I.

Through woman still the eternal God-power pours
Its wealth of passion and its glory of form.
God's breast is in the white breast, sweet and warm,
And subtle flower-scents from far heavenly shores
That who inhales in rapturous trance adores.
The impassioned sense of “conjugal repose”
God only, being perfect sex-God, knows
And gives to man from his exhaustless stores.
Dim-seen religions of ancestral lands
Erring, it may be, none the less were nearer
In this to God's heart, and the truth proclaimed
With vision larger and with voice far clearer:
God's own Bride's soft touch thrills through woman's hands
And through her eyes the deathless glance has flamed.