THE WONDERING ANGELS Behold! the Tabernacle of God's Will This woman's form enshrineth. What is this, More glorious than all our age-long bliss, Which shines within the shadow of her sill? How shall we lift this strangeness which doth fill Her human heart to breaking,--we who miss In our immortal joy, the enlight'ning kiss Of sorrow's bitter lips whence comforts thrill? How shall we sing to her of joys to come, To her who bears upon her breast the sum Of death's dread gloom and heaven's undying light? Lean close, ah, close, about her from above,-- Behold upon the mildness of her love Enthroned the terrors of His Holy Might! [Illustration: _The Madonna of the Pomegranate by Botticelli_] A BOTTICELLI MADONNA II THE MOURNFUL MOTHER O child of mine, my little Son, alas! Beneath the sunlight of Thy gentle eyes, Too soon, too soon, what fateful shadows rise, Like night foretold in some sweet woodland glass? On tender feet that scarcely bow the grass, What stains are those of ripe pomegranate dyes?-- When on my breast Thy head in slumber lies, What thorns are those that through my heart do pass? And round about these crowds of haunting forms That burn their splendor through my dimmest dreams! O little Child, Thou Wonder too divine, Thy precious body all my bosom warms With mine own blood, but oftentimes it seems, Too dearly loved,--that yet Thou art not mine. [Illustration: _The Madonna of the Rose Garden, by Botticelli_] A BOTTICELLI MADONNA III THE LOVING CHRIST The little hands returning wistfully From birdlike wand'rings, ever come to rest, On fostering hand on tender cheek or breast; The upturned eyes, with loving certainty Seek ever the grave face where broodingly, The mother-soul by yearning love opprest, With wings down-drooped, seems folded o'er the nest Where lies the Hope of all humanity. And she His World, and He her Calvary,-- He wraps her round with all the mystery Of love predestined for earth's needy ones; "Be comforted," it seems He fain would say, "O mother mine, there dawns an Easter day, And thou in me hast mothered many sons." [Illustration: _Angel Crowned with Jasmine Wreath, by Botticelli_] THE ANGEL OF THE JASMINE WREATH (_From a picture by Botticelli, of the Madonna and Child with Angels,--in the Borghese Gallery_)