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217
TRINITY
BY ELIA W. PEATTIE
We took no thought, dear Love, we took no
thought!
We only knew our summer-time was come —
The birds were nesting, orchards were abloom,
And joy burned in us like a holy flame.
And now, behold our little miracle!
Our shining star, come to us wondrously
From out the farther dark! Our mystery,
Too soft and sweet to be called anything —
Or miracle or mystery — but just
Our babe!
Our own — yet not our own!
We only knew our summer-time was come —
The birds were nesting, orchards were abloom,
And joy burned in us like a holy flame.
And now, behold our little miracle!
Our shining star, come to us wondrously
From out the farther dark! Our mystery,
Too soft and sweet to be called anything —
Or miracle or mystery — but just
Our babe!
Our own — yet not our own!
A gift, uncomprehendingly to prize!
His laughter, bright as sunshine on a wave,
Sets our whole world ashimmer, and his dreams,
Darkening his liquid eyes, are drawn, I think,
From those deep cisterns of our secret prayers,
Which we have strangely hidden, each from each.
And yet, at times, his pretty whimsy-thoughts
Shut soft the door on us and close us out!
We clasp him close and probe his lips for sweets —
Great, greedy bees upon a tender flower —
Yet cannot reach the little sacred self
That, like a god, is shrined in his bright shell.
His laughter, bright as sunshine on a wave,
218
Sets our whole world ashimmer, and his dreams,
Darkening his liquid eyes, are drawn, I think,
From those deep cisterns of our secret prayers,
Which we have strangely hidden, each from each.
And yet, at times, his pretty whimsy-thoughts
Shut soft the door on us and close us out!
We clasp him close and probe his lips for sweets —
Great, greedy bees upon a tender flower —
Yet cannot reach the little sacred self
That, like a god, is shrined in his bright shell.
Ah, Love, ah, Love, let us not call him ours!
Let us confess he cannot wonder more
At the amazing world than we at him.
— How can we voice our awe-in-gratitude —
Our poignant heart of sorrow-in-delight?
Silence indeed is best! Look deep, dear one,
In his sweet eyes and learn there what you may —
That love is service; yes, and mystery;
And in this lovely, wordless babe we hold
Is hidden safe the secret of the world.
Let us confess he cannot wonder more
At the amazing world than we at him.
— How can we voice our awe-in-gratitude —
Our poignant heart of sorrow-in-delight?
Silence indeed is best! Look deep, dear one,
In his sweet eyes and learn there what you may —
That love is service; yes, and mystery;
And in this lovely, wordless babe we hold
Is hidden safe the secret of the world.
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