 | Words by the Wayside |  |
IV
Quoth he, “If ever Love shall come
And of my life claim masterdom,
I will him take, for joy or dole,
As the one sovereign of my soul,
And in that high surrender see
A very heaven of liberty.
And whatso' powers be mine to charm
From inward fear or outward harm,
With all that manlike in me stirs,
Making for godlike, shall be hers
Who kindled the refining fire
That hallows and uplifts desire
From strength to strength, from grace to grace,
Till in my mind's most holy place—
Love's loftiest consummation this—
I am not, and she only is:
A presence that to hearts made wise
Is mightiest of all Mysteries,
And token of the eternal gain
Which is man's birthright to attain.”
And of my life claim masterdom,
I will him take, for joy or dole,
As the one sovereign of my soul,
And in that high surrender see
A very heaven of liberty.
And whatso' powers be mine to charm
From inward fear or outward harm,
With all that manlike in me stirs,
Making for godlike, shall be hers
Who kindled the refining fire
That hallows and uplifts desire
From strength to strength, from grace to grace,
Till in my mind's most holy place—
Love's loftiest consummation this—
I am not, and she only is:
A presence that to hearts made wise
Is mightiest of all Mysteries,
And token of the eternal gain
Which is man's birthright to attain.”
Quoth she, “If ever at God's call
The yoke of Love on me should fall,
I'd wear it, till my days were spent,
As life's divinest ornament;
And what within me noblest is,
Or outward fairest, should be his
Who set my beating heart a-tune
With roses and the breath of June,
And all the sweet world's witchery.
Yea, as their beauties are to me,
So would I seem to him; a sight
To bathe his spirit in delight;
A voice to touch the hidden strings
That thrill to fine imaginings;
A power, when earthly cares oppress,
To ease him of their weariness,
And rouse to rapture at a breath!
The very self within me saith
‘For thee, my lover, this could I,
Or, if I could not, let me die!’”
The yoke of Love on me should fall,
I'd wear it, till my days were spent,
As life's divinest ornament;
71
Or outward fairest, should be his
Who set my beating heart a-tune
With roses and the breath of June,
And all the sweet world's witchery.
Yea, as their beauties are to me,
So would I seem to him; a sight
To bathe his spirit in delight;
A voice to touch the hidden strings
That thrill to fine imaginings;
A power, when earthly cares oppress,
To ease him of their weariness,
And rouse to rapture at a breath!
The very self within me saith
‘For thee, my lover, this could I,
Or, if I could not, let me die!’”
O thou that of all kings we ken
Art lordliest over maids and men,
That knowest the deeps of their desire,
To what far heights their souls aspire,
If haply the heart-whispered word
Of these thy votaries thou hast heard
Who wed within thy courts to-day—
Deal so with them, Lord Love, we pray.
Art lordliest over maids and men,
That knowest the deeps of their desire,
To what far heights their souls aspire,
If haply the heart-whispered word
Of these thy votaries thou hast heard
Who wed within thy courts to-day—
Deal so with them, Lord Love, we pray.
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