THE CONVENT THRESHOLD.
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here's blood between us, love, my love,There's father's blood, there's brother's blood;And blood's a bar I cannot pass:I choose the stairs that mount above,Stair after golden skyward stair,To city and to sea of glass.My lily feet are soiled with mud,With scarlet mud which tells a taleOf hope that was, of guilt that was,Of love that shall not yet avail;Alas, my heart, if I could bareMy heart, this self-same stain is there:I seek the sea of glass and fireTo wash the spot, to burn the snare;Lo, stairs are meant to lift us higher:Mount with me, mount the kindled stair. Your eyes look earthward, mine look up.I see the far-off city grand,Beyond the hills a watered land,Beyond the gulf a gleaming strandOf mansions where the righteous sup;Who sleep at ease among their trees,Or wake to sing a cadenced hymnWith Cherubim and Seraphim;They bore the Cross, they drained the cup,Racked, roasted, crushed, wrenched limb from limb,They the offscouring of the world:The heaven of starry heavens unfurled,The sun before their face is dim. You looking earthward, what see you?Milk-white, wine-flushed among the vines,Up and down leaping, to and fro,Most glad, most full, made strong with wines,Blooming as peaches pearled with dew,Their golden windy hair afloat,Love-music warbling in their throat,Young men and women come and go. You linger, yet the time is short:Flee for your life, gird up your strengthTo flee: the shadows stretched at lengthShow that day wanes, that night draws nigh;Flee to the mountain, tarry not.Is this a time for smile and sigh,For songs among the secret treesWhere sudden bluebirds nest and sport?The time is short and yet you stay:To-day, while it is called to-day,Kneel, wrestle, knock, do violence, pray;To-day is short, to-morrow nigh:Why will you die? why will you die? You sinned with me a pleasant sin:Repent with me, for I repent.Woe's me the lore I must unlearn!Woe's me that easy way we went,So rugged when I would return!How long until my sleep begin,How long shall stretch these nights and days?Surely, clean Angels cry, she prays;She laves her soul with tedious tears:How long must stretch these years and years? I turn from you my cheeks and eyes,My hair which you shall see no more,--Alas for joy that went before,For joy that dies, for love that dies.Only my lips still turn to you,My livid lips that cry, Repent!O weary life, O weary Lent,O weary time whose stars are few! How should I rest in Paradise,Or sit on steps of Heaven alone?If Saints and Angels spoke of loveShould I not answer from my throne?Have pity upon me, ye my friends,For I have heard the sound thereof:Should I not turn with yearning eyes,Turn earthwards with a pitiful pang?O save me from a pang in Heaven!By all the gifts we took and gave,Repent, repent, and be forgiven:This life is long, but yet it ends;Repent and purge your soul and save:No gladder song the morning starsUpon their birthday morning sangThan Angels sing when one repents. I tell you what I dreamed last night:A spirit with transfigured faceFire-footed clomb an infinite space.I heard his hundred pinions clang,Heaven-bells rejoicing rang and rang,Heaven-air was thrilled with subtle scents,Worlds spun upon their rushing cars:He mounted shrieking: "Give me light!"Still light was poured on him, more light;Angels, Archangels he outstripped,Exultant in exceeding might,And trod the skirts of Cherubim.Still "Give me light," he shrieked; and dipped His thirsty face, and drank a sea,Athirst with thirst it could not slake.I saw him, drunk with knowledge, takeFrom aching brows the aureole crown,--His locks writhed like a cloven snake,--He left his throne to grovel downAnd lick the dust of Seraphs' feet:For what is knowledge duly weighed?Knowledge is strong, but love is sweet;Yea, all the progress he had madeWas but to learn that all is smallSave love, for love is all in all. I tell you what I dreamed last night:It was not dark, it was not light,Cold dews had drenched my plenteous hairThrough clay; you came to seek me there.And "Do you dream of me?" you said.My heart was dust that used to leapTo you; I answered half asleep:"My pillow is damp, my sheets are red,There's a leaden tester to my bed:Find you a warmer playfellow,A warmer pillow for your head,A kinder love to love than mine."You wrung your hands; while I like leadCrushed downwards through the sodden earth:You smote your hands but not in mirth,And reeled but were not drunk with wine. For all night long I dreamed of you:I woke and prayed against my will,Then slept to dream of you again.At length I rose and knelt and prayed:I cannot write the words I said,My words were slow, my tears were few;But through the dark my silence spokeLike thunder. When this morning broke,My face was pinched, my hair was gray,And frozen blood was on the sillWhere stifling in my struggle I lay. If now you saw me you would say:Where is the face I used to love?And I would answer: Gone before;It tarries veiled in Paradise.When once the morning star shall rise,When earth with shadow flees awayAnd we stand safe within the door,Then you shall lift the veil thereof.Look up, rise up: for far aboveOur palms are grown, our place is set;There we shall meet as once we met,And love with old familiar love.
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