26
ORACLES
Am I not true, O mother, who hast held the
lives of men
Sucked down to thy swart bosom—O render
not again !
Keep thou our life and mix it with thine
eternal sleep :
Rest, Jet us rest from passion there, deep!
O how deep!
Deep calleth unto deep, Amen ! hast thou no
passion, thou ?
Even now the white flames kindle on thy
universal brow.
I hear white serpents hiss and wild black
dragons roll ;
And the storm of love is on thee—ah ! shall
it touch thy soul?
Nay, O my mother, in eternal calm thy
virginal depths lie.
The peace of God, that passeth understanding,
that am [!
Even I, perceiving deeply beneath the eyes
of flame
The soul that, kindling, is not kindled: I
have known thy Name.
Awake, O soaring billows! Lighten the
raging dome,
Wrap the wide horizon in a single cloak of
flaming foam,
Leap in your fury! Beat upon the shores
unseen! Devour your food,
The broken cliff, the crumbled bank, the
bar. I know the mood.
Even so I see the terror of universal strife :
Murderous war, and murderous peace, and
miserable life :
The pang of childbirth, and the pain of
youth, and the fear of age,
Life tossed and broken into dust in the
elemental rage.
Is not God part of every the tiniest spark
of man?
ls He not moulded also in His own eternal
plan?
Even so; as the woes of earth is the angry
crested sea.
Even so; as Her great peace abideth in the
deep—so He!
What wreck floats by us? What pale corpse
rolls horribly above,
Tossed on the unbewailing foam, cast out of
light and life and love?
The sea shall draw thee down, O brother, to
her breast of peace,
Her unimaginable springs, her bridal secre-
cles.
Even so draw me in life, O Mother, to thy
breast !
Below the storm, below the wind, to the
abiding rest !
That I may know thy purpose and understand
thy ways:
So, weeping always for the woe, also the love
to praise !
The darkness falls intensely : no light invades
the gloom.
Stillness drops dew-like from the heaven’s
unreverberant womb.
Westward the ship is riding on the sable
wings of night,
I understand the darkness—why should I
seek the light?
ASSUMPTA CANIDIA.
Written in Mexico City.
WATERS that weep upon the barren shore
Where some lone mystery of man abides ;
As if the wailing of forsaken brides,
Rapt from the kiss of love for evermore,
Impressed its memory on the desolate
Sounds at its edge; on such a Strand of
tears
I linger through the long forgetful years,
My sin for mother, and my woe for mate.
I am a soul lost utterly—forbear !
I am unworthy both of tear and prayer.