William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.

Sekhmet the Lion-Headed

IN the dark night I heard a stirring,

Near me something was purring.

A voice, deep-throated, spoke:

I litter armies for all easts and wests

And norths and souths:

They suckle my girl-goddess breasts,

And my fierce milk drips from their mouths.

The voice sang:

I do not kill! I, Sekhmet the Lion-headed, I!

But between my soft hands they die.

I asked:

O Sekhmet, Lion-headed one,

How long shall warring be?

And Sekhmet deigned to make reply:

Eternally!

Bold in my faith I grew:

Dread goddess-cat, you lie!

Warring shall cease!

My God of love is greater far

Than you!

How gentle was the voice of Sekhmet then:

He of the Star?

He Whom they called the Prince of Peace—

And slew?—

And slew again—and yet again?—

Ah, yes!—she said.

And all about my bed

The night grew laughing-red:

Sekhmet I did not see

But in that bleeding dusk I heard

That Sekhmet purred.

Contemporary Verse