Why Jesus Wept

WHY JESUS WEPT 55 Thou chaste pale goddess blooded to the human, Artemis rosy like Hippolyta ! Ay, my lord, were it true, your liar’s lore, (Oh blasphemy !) were my young love an whore, An hag of sixty ; I were greater so. He who doth know And fears and hates, Is not as he who cares not, but creates A royal crown from an old bonnet string, A maiden from a strumpet : that is to be like God, Who from all chaos, from the husks of matter, Crusts shed off putrefaction, shakes a wing And flies ; bids flowers spring from the dull black sod, Is not the scientist to shatter Beauty by dint of microscope, But wakes a wider hope And turns all to the beautiful ; so I. Angela, wake ! The midnight hour is nigh : — Let us renew the vows of love ! appease These amorous longings with grave ecstasies, The holy act of uttermost communion, The sacrament of life ! Awake, awake ! There is a secret in our subtle union That masters the grey snake. Ay ! let him lurk ! The Tree of Knowledge we Have fed our fill of ; this is Eden still. Awake, O Love ! and let me drink my fill Of thee — and thou of me ! Angela wakes.