Sedes Sapientiae.
V.
"Wisdom hath built herself a House,
And hewn her out her pillars seven." [Footnote 4]
Her wine is mixed. Her guests are those
Who share the harvest-home of heaven.
[Footnote 4: Proverbs ix. 1.]
Who guards the gates? The flaming sword
Of Penance. Every way it turns:
But healing from on high is poured
On each that fire seraphic burns.
The fruits upon her table piled
Are gathered from the Tree of Life.
Around are ranged the undefiled,
And those that conquered in the strife.
Who tends the guests? Who smiles away
Sad memories? bids misgiving cease?
A crowned one countenanced like the day—
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
[{88}]
VI.
Here, in this paradise of light,
Superfluous were both tree and grass:
Enough to watch the sunbeams smite
Yon white flower sole in the morass.
From his cold nest the skylark springs;
Sings, pauses, sings; shoots up anew;
Attains his topmost height, and sings
Quiescent in his vault of blue.
With eyes half-closed I watch that lake
Flashed from whose plane the sun-sparks fly,
Like souls new-born that shoot and break
From thy deep sea, Eternity!
Ripplings of sunlight from the wave
Ascend the white rock, high and higher;
Soft gurglings fill the satiate cave;
Soft airs amid the reeds expire.
All round the lone and luminous meer
The dark world stretches, far and free:
That skylark's song alone I hear;
That flashing wave alone I see.
O myriad Earth! Where'er thy Word
Makes way indeed into the soul,
An answering echo there is stirred:—
Of thee the part is as the whole.