It feels in the unwounding vast
    For comfort for its hopes and fears: 
    The Mighty Mother bows at last;
    She listens to her children’s tears.

    Where the last anguish deepens—­there
    The fire of beauty smites through pain: 
    A glory moves amid despair,
    The Mother takes her child again.

SACRIFICE

    Those delicate wanderers,
    The wind, the star, the cloud,
    Ever before mine eyes,
    As to an altar bowed,
    Light and dew-laden airs
    Offer in sacrifice.

    The offerings arise: 
    Hazes of rainbow light,
    Pure crystal, blue, and gold,
    Through dreamland take their flight;
    And ’mid the sacrifice
    God moveth as of old.

    In miracles of fire
    He symbols forth his days;
    In gleams of crystal light
    Reveals what pure pathways
    Lead to the soul’s desire,
    The silence of the height.

RECONCILIATION

    I begin through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord;
    I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of rest
    Of the Earth, of the Mother, my heart with her heart in accord: 
    As I lie mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breast
    I begin with the grass once again to be bound to the Lord.

    By the hand of a child I am led to the throne of the King,
    For a touch that now fevers me not is forgotten and far,
    And His infinite sceptred hands that sway us can bring
    Me in dreams from the laugh of a child to the song of a star. 
    On the laugh of a child I am borne to the joy of the King.

    Well, when all is said and done
    Best within my narrow way,
    May some angel of the sun
    Muse memorial o’er my clay: 

    ’Here was beauty all betrayed
    From the freedom of her state;
    From her human uses stayed
    On an idle rhyme to wait.

    Ah, what deep despair might move
    If the beauty lit a smile,
    Or the heart was warm with love
    That was pondering the while.

    He has built his monument
    With the winds of time at strife,
    Who could have before he went
    Written in the book of life.

    To the stars from which he came
    Empty handed he goes home;
    He who might have wrought in flame
    Only traced upon the foam.’

THE NUTS OF KNOWLEDGE

’Sinend daughter of Lodan Lucharglan, son of Lir, out of the Land of Promise went to Connlas’ Well which is under the sea, to behold it.  That is a well at which are the hazels of wisdom and inspiration that is, the hazels of the science of poetry; and in the same hour their fruit and their blossom & their foliage break forth, and then fall upon the well in the same shower, which raises upon the water a royal surge