Even as I see, and share with you in seeing, The altar flame of your love's sacrifice; And even as I bear before the hour the vision, Your little hands in hospital and prison Laid upon broken bodies, dying eyes, So do I suffer for splendor of your being Which leads you from me, and in separation Lays on my breast the pain of memory. Over your hands I bend In silent adoration, Dumb for a fear of sorrow without end, Asking for consolation Out of the sacrament of our separation, And for some faithful word acceptable and true, That I may know and keep the mystery: That in this separation I go forth with you And you to the world's end remain with me. * * * * * How may I justify the hope that rises That I am giving you to a world of pain, And am a part of your love's sacrifices? Is it so little if I see you not again? You will croon soldier lads to sleep, Even to the last sleep of all. But in this absence, as your love will keep Your breast for me for comfort, if I fall, So I, though far away, shall kneel by you If the last hour approaches, to bedew Your lips that from their infant wondering Lisped of a heaven lost. I shall kiss down your eyes, and count the cost As mine, who gave you, by the tragic giving. Go forth with spirit to death, and to the living Bearing a solace in death. God has breathed on you His transfiguring breath,-- You are transfigured Before me, and I bow my head, And leave you in the light that lights your way, And shadows me. Even now the hour is sped, And the hour we must obey-- Look you, I will go pray! * * * * * THE AWAKENING When you lie sleeping; golden hair Tossed on your pillow, sea shell pink Ears that nestle, I forbear A moment while I look and think How you are mine, and if I dare To bend and kiss you lying there. * * * * * A Raphael in the flesh! Resist I cannot, though to break your sleep Is thoughtless of me--you are kissed And roused from slumber dreamless, deep-- You rub away the slumber's mist, You scold and almost weep. * * * * * It is too bad to wake you so, Just for a kiss. But when awake You sing and dance, nor seem to know You slept a sleep too deep to break From which I roused you long ago For nothing but my passion's sake-- What though your heart should ache! * * * * * IN THE GARDEN AT THE DAWN HOUR