A PROFESSION
It is said of her—
“The Cross shall be on her breast as a bundle of myrrh.”
I have loved odours well,
Loved frankincense and hydromel:
The Angels know I have been very far
After where wild roses are;
And celled morsels of ambergris
Have risen up to my heart as peace.
Will the Cross confer
One day with my breast as a bundle of myrrh?
This would be, if I would let,
Rather as an English Violet,
That would make all my bosom's room
A very murmur of perfume—
This would be, if I would suffer it.
