_Ador._ Speak low, my brother, low,--and not of love Or human or angelic! Rather stand Before the throne of that Supreme above, In whose infinitude the secrecies Of thine own being lie hid, and lift thine hand Exultant, saying, "Lord God, I am wise!"-- Than utter _here_, "I love." _Zerah._ And yet thine eyes Do utter it. They melt in tender light, The tears of heaven. _Ador._ Of heaven. Ah me! _Zerah._ Ador! _Ador._ Say on! _Zerah._ The crucified are three. Beloved, they are unlike. _Ador._ Unlike. _Zerah._ For one Is as a man who has sinned and still Doth wear the wicked will, The hard malign life-energy, Tossed outward, in the parting soul's disdain, On brow and lip that cannot change again. _Ador._ And one-- _Zerah._ Has also sinned. And yet (O marvel!) doth the Spirit-wind Blow white those waters? Death upon his face Is rather shine than shade, A tender shine by looks beloved made: He seemeth dying in a quiet place, And less by iron wounds in hands and feet Than heart-broke by new joy too sudden and sweet. _Ador._ And ONE!-- _Zerah._ And ONE!-- _Ador._ Why dost thou pause? _Zerah._ God! God! Spirit of my spirit! who movest Through seraph veins in burning deity To light the quenchless pulses!-- _Ador._ But hast trod The depths of love in thy peculiar nature, And not in any thou hast made and lovest In narrow seraph hearts!-- _Zerah._ Above, Creator! Within, Upholder! _Ador._ And below, below, The creature's and the upholden's sacrifice! _Zerah._ Why do I pause?--