The Mothers Touch

MOTHER, when thou hast kept thy hand'

Upon my palm

And from thy many-coloured eyes

Pourest dew-calm,

A myriad melodies awake

That slept so long:

The burden of the dark centuries

Blossoms like a song.

By the power of a soft silken touch

The In
nite speaks

Out of its hushed unbroken silence

In gold sun-streaks,

And my spirit wings up far away

Beyond times ridge.

A moments vision, a ickering call

Crossing the earth-bridge,

It is lost on high like a sudden eagle

In a ight of bliss:

A new birth pulses and a glow

Of unknown release.

Then, like the hasty end of a dream,

A shadow falls

On azure heights of my lustrous day.

Nature enthralls,

Or the red
re of the ignorant heart

On the bodys pit

Draws down from the wide sky-suspense

Thy In
nite.

Bestow, O Mother, the solemn pledge

Of victory,

At end of the long and Winding paths

Thy orbed Divinity.

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