I often think of a mysterious woman-- There must be somewhere a mysterious woman, Mysterious and most marvelous of beauty, Most beautiful,--miraculously kind, Indeed a kindness passing understanding, So great a kindness that it seemeth madness. It seemeth madness, for she sallies forth At dead of night into the dismal streets, Into the dismal and deserted streets, Monotously criss-crossing the city, The monstrous, lightless, heartless, sleeping city, Where prowling as the vermin shunning light, Or derelicts adrift on dreary seas, She seeks the disinherited of joy She seeks the stunted, the disfigured children, The starved, diseased and the discouraged children Of stepmother society, seeks them out, Whom everybody shuns and no one loves. She seeks them out and gives herself to them, This queenly woman, marvelous of beauty, Entirely gives herself to those of whom The thought alone makes shudder with disgust. She gives herself even as the twilight enters A fetid, vermin-ridden, mildewed dungeon, A whiff of heaven in a life of hell. Oh, have you, have you ever seen that woman, That beautiful, that kind, mysterious woman? She is our Lady of Infinite Mercy. Blessed be our Lady of Infinite Mercy! A PAGAN'S PRAYER I sought the shrine of Eros and I prayed:-- O God omnipotent, O God supreme, O God of love who art the God of Gods, Behold thy worshipper upon his knees Prostrated in the dust. Let not my supplications rise in vain From depths iniquitous to heights sublime. O grant me my request, good God of love. Unlock for me thy secret treasure house And make me master of the arts of love. My heart conceives great symphonies of love That my poor body cannot execute. I am a Beethoven, I am a Wagner, My orchestration needs a thousand pieces, But am restricted to a shepherd's reed. Reveal to me the secrets of the ancients, Instruct me in the art of love long lost; That love of time when Gods and humans mingled. In love I am a God, in love expression I am alas! a frail, a weakling human. O Eros! Eros! Eros! God of love, Give me the power to love as Gods can love. NIETZSCHE A sombre silhouette Against a sun-rise sky In solemn solitude, The wanderer goes by. The shadow that he casts Upon the plains below Strikes terror to the hearts Of those that do not know. O messenger sublime Who hailest from that land Where joy and beauty reign; If they could understand!... If they could understand The message that you bring, They'd strew your path with palms; Hosannahs would they sing. Strength superceding faith, Joy superceding fear: The Super-Christ has come; The Superman is near.... TO A NEGRO BELLE