Michael Villiers, Idealist :: :: University of Virginia Library

‘Open to him who standeth at thy door,
To him whose travail hath been sore and hard,
To him whose visage is so greatly marred;
Open to him, dear soul, he doth implore.
Lo, one may track him by the drops of gore
His wounded feet have shed on stone and sward;
Keep not thy door against him closely barred;
Open to him, once and for evermore.’

‘Nay, for blithe music and the dancers' feet
Are in my house, and all is beauty and light;
Why should I suffer anguish of the night
To enter in and spoil the fair, the sweet?
He would not dance to any pipings meet;—
Hence, pilgrim, hence, and trouble not my sight!’

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II. ASCETIC

‘Open to him who standeth at thy door,
To him who wears a crown with jewels starred,
To him whose locks are bright with odorous nard;
Open to him, sweet soul, he doth implore.
His garments drop with all love's fragrant store,
His garments drop with all love's fragrant store,
His form is beauty's self; put key to ward,
Open to him, once and for evermore.’

‘How should I dare undo my door to greet
The pride of lust and revelry to-night?
Hell's worm breeds at the heart of such delight,
Hell's fire the only end its raptures meet.
O bitterness, be thou alone my sweet!
Blind me, my God, that so I see aright!’