| |
| CAN we not consecrate | |
| To man and God above | |
| This volume of our great | |
| Supernal tide of love? | |
| |
| ’Twere wrong its wealth to waste | 5 |
| On merely me and you, | |
| In selfish touch and taste, | |
| As other lovers do. | |
| |
| This love is not as theirs: | |
| It came from the Divine, | 10 |
| Whose glory still it wears, | |
| And print of Whose design. | |
| |
| The world is full of woe, | |
| The time is blurred with dust, | |
| Illusions breed and grow, | 15 |
| And eyes’ and flesh’s lust. | |
| |
| The mighty league with Wrong | |
| And stint the weakling’s bread; | |
| The very lords of song | |
| With Luxury have wed. | 20 |
| |
| Fair Art deserts the mass, | |
| And loiters with the gay; | |
| And only gods of brass | |
| Are popular to-day. | |
| |
| Two souls with love inspired, | 25 |
| Such lightning love as ours, | |
| Could spread, if we desired, | |
| Dismay among such powers: | |
| |
| Could social stables purge | |
| Of filth where festers strife: | 30 |
| Through modern baseness surge | |
| A holier tide of life. | |
| |
| Yea, two so steeped in love | |
| From such a source, could draw | |
| The angels from above | 35 |
| To lead all to their Law. | |
| |
| We have no right to seek | |
| Repose in rosy bower, | |
| When Hunger thins the cheek | |
| Of childhood every hour: | 40 |
| |
| Nor while the tiger, Sin, | |
| ’Mid youths and maidens roams, | |
| Should Duty skulk within | |
| These selfish cosy homes. | |
| |
| Our place is in the van | 45 |
| With those crusaders, who | |
| Maintain the rights of man | |
| ’Gainst despot and his crew. | |
| |
| If sacrifice may move | |
| Their load of pain from men, | 50 |
| The greatest right of Love | |
| Is to renounce It then. | |
| |
| Ah, Love, the earth is woe’s | |
| And sadly helpers needs: | |
| And, till its burden goes, | 55 |
| Our work is—where it bleeds. | |
| |
