Songs of the Spirit

Stretching her arms to his breast, reaching her lips to his face, Lips that should grant but one kiss ere the demons descended and tore him Limb from wet limb, and devoured, and bore this stained soul into space Far from the regions of hope and the lands that are holy with grace. Alway the battle proceeds and alway the tempest re-quickens, Pregnant with thunder, delivered when the swift knife is let flash ; Alway the wind has its will and the slaughter-steam rises and thickens, Alway the sea is a lion, enraged by the wind and its lash, Alway the heavens resound with the thunder’s unchangeable crash. Heaven has conquered, behold ! and the hosts of the demons are fleeing, Dawn drives before her fair feet the feather-light wings of the gale, Silent the tower rears aloft its front into beauty and seeing, 75