 | English Roses |  |
THE MAKING OF WOMAN.
Tears for the making of woman tender and warm and sweet,
Rich with the rose of the human passion a-pulse in her feet;
Mist from the virgin mountains solemn and far and white,
Murmur of musical fountains drawn from the Infinite;
Fire from the forge of the crater grim where the Cyclopes grind
Worlds for the worlds' Creator, marble instinct with mind;
Snow of the awful summits hidden on holy ground,
Pearls out of deeps that plummets never on earth could sound;
Scarlet and gold past measure painted on hair and flesh,
Madness and mirth and pleasure loathed and pursued afresh;
Colour of sunset petal veiled under mocking morn,
Hardness of heated metal polished, and point of thorn;
Strength of a more than giant dreadful to dare and wreak
Vengeance, and unreliant helplessness worse than weak;
Breath of the boundless ocean mixed with the cloistered air,
Rapture of crowned devotion, taint from the leper's lair;
Effort of flame aspiring up in the heaven of trust,
Purity's power untiring thrilled with the harlot's lust;
Spreading of love as spacious columns from flowering plinth,
Clinging of hope as gracious blue to the hyacinth;
This was the making of woman, wonderful, shyly shod,
Clothed with a garment human, bearing the lamp of God.
Rich with the rose of the human passion a-pulse in her feet;
Mist from the virgin mountains solemn and far and white,
Murmur of musical fountains drawn from the Infinite;
Fire from the forge of the crater grim where the Cyclopes grind
Worlds for the worlds' Creator, marble instinct with mind;
365
Pearls out of deeps that plummets never on earth could sound;
Scarlet and gold past measure painted on hair and flesh,
Madness and mirth and pleasure loathed and pursued afresh;
Colour of sunset petal veiled under mocking morn,
Hardness of heated metal polished, and point of thorn;
Strength of a more than giant dreadful to dare and wreak
Vengeance, and unreliant helplessness worse than weak;
Breath of the boundless ocean mixed with the cloistered air,
Rapture of crowned devotion, taint from the leper's lair;
Effort of flame aspiring up in the heaven of trust,
Purity's power untiring thrilled with the harlot's lust;
Spreading of love as spacious columns from flowering plinth,
Clinging of hope as gracious blue to the hyacinth;
This was the making of woman, wonderful, shyly shod,
Clothed with a garment human, bearing the lamp of God.
Blossom of benedictions happily wooed and won,
Sum of all contradictions, treasures for each and none;
Wisdom of reverend sages, grace with no mortal spell,
Riddle of endless ages fashioned of heaven and hell;
Silence of secret places green where the violet grows,
Waft of the wind's embraces, light as where water flows;
Joy of the tree that wrestles long with the winter blast,
Bliss of a babe that nestles safe on the breast at last;
Terrible boon of sorrow strewing with stones its way,
Promise of brighter morrow, bud of the dim to-day;
Faith with its upturned vision opening the very sky,
Fear and its dark derision dumb as Eternity;
Curve of the lily's shoulder washed in the pale moonshine,
Ashes that as they smoulder rush into rays divine;
Perfume of spices vagrant over a summer sea,
Kiss of destruction fragrant yet with its sinful plea;
Mould of a larger station, might like a conquering storm,
Lines of a revelation writ on a rebel form;
This was the making of woman dainty and pure in plan,
Robed in her pity human, bearing the curse of man.
Sum of all contradictions, treasures for each and none;
Wisdom of reverend sages, grace with no mortal spell,
Riddle of endless ages fashioned of heaven and hell;
Silence of secret places green where the violet grows,
Waft of the wind's embraces, light as where water flows;
Joy of the tree that wrestles long with the winter blast,
Bliss of a babe that nestles safe on the breast at last;
Terrible boon of sorrow strewing with stones its way,
366
Faith with its upturned vision opening the very sky,
Fear and its dark derision dumb as Eternity;
Curve of the lily's shoulder washed in the pale moonshine,
Ashes that as they smoulder rush into rays divine;
Perfume of spices vagrant over a summer sea,
Kiss of destruction fragrant yet with its sinful plea;
Mould of a larger station, might like a conquering storm,
Lines of a revelation writ on a rebel form;
This was the making of woman dainty and pure in plan,
Robed in her pity human, bearing the curse of man.
| English Roses | |