333. At the Feet of Isis

HER feet are set in darkness—at Her feet

We kneel, for She is Mother of us all—

A mighty Mother, with all love replete;

We, groping ’midst the shadow’s dusky pall,

Ask not to see the upper vision bright,

Enough for us Her feet shine clear—all virgin white.

Her wings are tipped with golden light, but we

Ken but the shadow at Her pinions’ base—

We kneel before Her feet, we cannot see

The glory that illuminates Her face,

For he who t’wards the vision gazeth up

Finds first the stricken breast—the sacrificial cup!

Her feet gleam in the darkness—at Her feet

We lay the price of those twin pearls of Heav’n—

All that man hath—an offering incomplete

Is his who yet his best would leave ungiv’n;

And as She stoops Her guerdon to bestow,

His life’s blood in Her cup, outstretched there, needs must flow!

Her wings are in the shadow—Lo! they cast

That shadow e’en o’er Heav’n’s own light, we cry,

For in the darkness, terrible and vast,

She spreads the wing to which the soul must hie;

But, to that shelter led, our upward gaze

Beholds Her pinions formed of Light’s celestial rays!

Her feet are in the darkness, but Her face

Is in high Heav’n—all Truth inhabits there;

All Knowledge and all Peace, and perfect grace,

And in the wonder of Her joy they share

Who, blindly clinging to Her feet erstwhile,

Obtained the priceless gift—the vision of Her smile.