He comes, a moon whose like the sky ne'er saw, awake or dreaming, Crowned with Eternal Flame no flood can lay. Lo, from the flagon of Thy Love, O Lord, my soul is swimming, And ruined all my body's house of clay! When first the Giver of the grape my lonely heart befriended, Wine fired my bosom and my veins filled up, But when His image all mine eye possessed, a voice descended: "Well done, O sovereign Wine and peerless Cup!" Love's mighty arm from roof to base each dark abode is hewing Where chinks reluctant catch a golden ray. My heart, when Love's sea of a sudden burst into its viewing, Leaped headlong in, with "Find me now who may!" "THE ROAD BE THINE TOWARDS THE SHRINE" O honoured guest in Love's high feast, O bird of the angel-sphere, 'Tis cause to weep, if thou wilt keep thy habitation here. A voice at morn to thee is borne--God whispers to the soul-- "If on the way the dust thou lay, thou soon wilt gain the goal." The road be thine toward the Shrine! and lo, in bush and briar, The many slain of Love and pain in flower of young desire, Who on the track fell wounded back and saw not, ere the end, A ray of bliss, a touch, a kiss, a token of the Friend! THY ROSE Our Sweetnesses all bleat in Thee, Give infant lips their smiles benign. Thou crushest me to drops of Rose Nor 'neath the press do I repine. In Thy sweet Pain is pain forgot; For I, Thy Rose, had this design. Thou bad'st me blossom on Thy Robe, And mad'st me for all eyes Thy sign. And when Thou pour'st me on the world, It blows in beauty, all Divine. "I SAW THE WINTER WEAVING" I saw the winter weaving from flakes a robe of Death; And the spring found earth in mourning, all naked, lone, and bare. I heard Time's loom a-whirring that wove the Sun's dim Veil; I saw a worm a-weaving in Life-threads its own lair. I saw the Great was Smallest, and saw the Smallest Great; For God had set His likeness on all the things that were. "LOVE SOUNDS THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES" O, soul, if thou, too, wouldst be free, Then love the Love that shuts thee in. 'Tis Love that twisteth every snare; 'Tis Love that snaps the bond of sin; Love sounds the Music of the Spheres; Love echoes through Earth's harshest din. * * * * * * * *¨* * * * * * * The world is God's pure mirror clear, To eyes when free from clouds within. With Love's own eyes the Mirror view, And there see God to self akin. "THE SOULS LOVE-MOVED"