Collected Works (Vol. II)

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.