LVII.
For long, in jealousy for corporal power,
Had man contemned his sister’s worthier dower;
What time his ruder feelings held the sway,
With little hope or hint of truer way;
Till on a wistful world has dawned benign
The prescience of a potency divine
Sleeping, unrecked of, deep in woman’s heart,
Waiting some kiss superne, into full life to start.