University of Virginia Library

III. Soul and Flesh.

My Soul, thou art wed
To a perishable thing,
But death from thy strange mate
Shall sever thee full soon,
If thou wilt reap wings
Take all the Flesh can give:
The touch of the smelling dead,
The kiss of the maiden's mouth,
The sorrow, the hope, the fear,
That floweth along the veins:
Take all, nor be afraid;
Cling close to thy mortal Mate!
So shalt thou duly wring
Out of thy long embrace
The hunger and thirst whereof
The Master maketh thee wings,—
The beautiful, wondrous yearning,
The mighty thirst to endure.
Be not afraid, my Soul,
To leave thy Mate at last,
Thou ye shall learn in time
To love each other well;
But put her gently down
In the earth beneath thy feet.
And dry thine eyes and hasten
To the imperishable springs;
And it shall be well for thee
In the beautiful Master's sight,
If it be found in the end
Thou hast used her tenderly.