Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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THE GOSPEL OF PINK AND WHITE. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
THE GOSPEL OF PINK AND WHITE.
O the love of a woman is mighty,
And the love of a woman is sweet;
Though her pathway be foolish and flighty,
There is music as much in her feet.
So I murmured and knew as I kissed her,
With the passion that madly had missed her
And had feared we might never more meet.
Yes, I thought this and said when her dear fingers laid
Upon me their imprisoning bands,
That were softer than sleep and half-bold, half-afraid,
But yet almost delicious commands.
O the love of a woman divine, it is human,
Though inspired with a heavenlier plan,
In its wonder of pink and the white,
And the glamour and grace infinite—
It's the story and making of man.
And the love of a woman is sweet;
Though her pathway be foolish and flighty,
There is music as much in her feet.
So I murmured and knew as I kissed her,
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And had feared we might never more meet.
Yes, I thought this and said when her dear fingers laid
Upon me their imprisoning bands,
That were softer than sleep and half-bold, half-afraid,
But yet almost delicious commands.
O the love of a woman divine, it is human,
Though inspired with a heavenlier plan,
In its wonder of pink and the white,
And the glamour and grace infinite—
It's the story and making of man.
O the love of a woman is splendid,
And the love of a woman is strong,
Like the tale of a truth never-ended
And an ever-beginning of song;
As he knows who with her has once mounted
Up the steps of denial uncounted,
To the heights above hatred and wrong.
Ah, I blissfully felt as before her I knelt,
She was drawing me upward with her,
To the summit of peace where serenely she dwelt,
In the beauty that nowise can err.
O the love of a woman is given to no man
Who is squalid and creeps where he can;
And its glory of pink and the white
Wherein God doth His love-letters write,
Is the best revelation to man.
And the love of a woman is strong,
Like the tale of a truth never-ended
And an ever-beginning of song;
As he knows who with her has once mounted
Up the steps of denial uncounted,
To the heights above hatred and wrong.
Ah, I blissfully felt as before her I knelt,
She was drawing me upward with her,
To the summit of peace where serenely she dwelt,
In the beauty that nowise can err.
O the love of a woman is given to no man
Who is squalid and creeps where he can;
And its glory of pink and the white
Wherein God doth His love-letters write,
Is the best revelation to man.
O the love of a woman is fickle,
And the love of a woman is fire;
For it cuts as in harvest the sickle,
And it burns with unsated desire;
But the light of her soul which I bathed in
And the purity she was enswathed in,
Were a virginal holy attire.
Lo, above me her eye like a rain-washen sky
Shone in pity that cleansed me from cloud,
And my heart seemed to break in one conquering cry
Which had burst from its earthlier shroud.
O the love of a woman divine, it is human
Though eternity only the span,
In its gospel of pink and the white
And the visions that these do indite—
It's the joy and salvation of man.
And the love of a woman is fire;
For it cuts as in harvest the sickle,
And it burns with unsated desire;
But the light of her soul which I bathed in
And the purity she was enswathed in,
Were a virginal holy attire.
Lo, above me her eye like a rain-washen sky
Shone in pity that cleansed me from cloud,
And my heart seemed to break in one conquering cry
Which had burst from its earthlier shroud.
O the love of a woman divine, it is human
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In its gospel of pink and the white
And the visions that these do indite—
It's the joy and salvation of man.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |