You, close Heart! 
    Never hide from mine
    Worlds that I divine
  Through thy human dearness. 
  O beloved Nearness,
    Hallow all I understand
    With thy hand-in-hand;—­
  All the lights I seek,
  With thy cheek-to-cheek;
    All the loveliness I loved apart.

    You, heart’s Home!—­
    Wall not in my heart.

CANTICLE OF THE BABE

I

Over the broken world, the dark gone by,
Horror of outcast darkness torn with wars;
And timeless agony
Of the white fire, heaped high by blinded Stars,
Unfaltering, unaghast;—­
Out of the midmost Fire
At last,—­at last,—­
Cry! ... 
O darkness’ one desire,—­
O darkness, have you heard?—­
Black Chaos, blindly striving towards the Word? 
—­The Cry!

Behold thy conqueror, Death! 
Behold, behold from whom
It flutters forth, that triumph of First-Breath,
Victorious one that can but breathe and cling,—­
This pulsing flower,—­this weaker than a wing,
Halcyon thing!—­
Cradled above unfathomable doom.

II

Under my feet, O Death,
Under my trembling feet! 
Back, through the gates of hell, now give me way. 
I come.—­I bring new Breath! 
Over the trampled shards of mine own clay,
That smoulder still, and burn,
Lo, I return! 
Hail, singing Light that floats
Pulsing with chorused motes:—­
Hail to thee, Sun, that lookest on all lands! 
And take thou from my weak undying hands,
A precious thing, unblemished, undefiled:—­
Here, on my heart uplift,
Behold the Gift,—­
Thy glory and my glory, and my child!

III

(And our eyes were opened; eyes that had been holden. 
  And I saw the world, and the fruits thereof. 
And I saw their glories, scarlet-stained and golden,
  All a crumbled dust beneath the feet of Love. 
  And I saw their dreams, all of nothing worth;
  But a path for Love, for Him to walk above,
And I saw new heaven, and new earth.)

IV

    The grass is full of murmurs;
    The sky is full of wings;
        The earth is full of breath. 
        With voices, choir on choir
        With tongues of fire,
    They sing how Life out-sings—­
        Out-numbers Death.

V

Who are these that fly;
As doves, and as doves to the windows? 
Doves, like hovering dreams round Love that slumbereth;
Silvering clouds blown by,
Doves and doves to the windows,—­
Warm through the radiant sky their wings beat breath. 
They are the world’s new-born: 
Doves, doves to the windows!