 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE SILENT GODDESS.
PROLOGUE.
Men measured not the love,
Enbracing earth and skies,
Kindled from founts above,
Within her glorious eyes;
Nor dreamed a saviour's part
She took in every ill,
And heaven was in the heart
That suffered and was still;
For, though with battle chime
The thunders round her broke,
She looked beyond all time—
But never word she spoke.
Enbracing earth and skies,
Kindled from founts above,
Within her glorious eyes;
Nor dreamed a saviour's part
She took in every ill,
And heaven was in the heart
That suffered and was still;
For, though with battle chime
The thunders round her broke,
She looked beyond all time—
But never word she spoke.
Men saw not purpose pure,
Outshining falsehood's wraith,
That stooped but to endure,
In her heroic faith;
A purpose grand, and green
As springtide beauty spread,
Alone, to stand between
The dying and the dead;
Alone, to bear for all
The suffering, till woke
The sinner from his fall—
But never word she spoke.
Outshining falsehood's wraith,
That stooped but to endure,
In her heroic faith;
A purpose grand, and green
As springtide beauty spread,
Alone, to stand between
The dying and the dead;
Alone, to bear for all
The suffering, till woke
The sinner from his fall—
But never word she spoke.
Men knew not, woman's love
Almighty was and staunch,
And like the homeless dove
Brought them the olive branch;
When lesser souls might pine,
A patience lived in her
Immortal and divine,
To anchor feet that err;
To guide the pilgrim true,
Through doubt's Tartarean smoke,
By hope's unswerving clue—
If never word she spoke.
Almighty was and staunch,
And like the homeless dove
Brought them the olive branch;
When lesser souls might pine,
A patience lived in her
Immortal and divine,
To anchor feet that err;
To guide the pilgrim true,
Through doubt's Tartarean smoke,
By hope's unswerving clue—
If never word she spoke.
Men cared not, how supreme
She rose above the shock
Of wind and wave extreme,
Stablished on Christ the Rock;
How sorrows were her meat,
From evening unto morn,
With ban her burning seat,
And garland none but thorn;
Till, in the ripening years,
God drew aside the cloke
Of trouble and of tears—
And Goddess-like she spoke.
She rose above the shock
Of wind and wave extreme,
Stablished on Christ the Rock;
How sorrows were her meat,
From evening unto morn,
With ban her burning seat,
And garland none but thorn;
Till, in the ripening years,
God drew aside the cloke
Of trouble and of tears—
And Goddess-like she spoke.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |