Zerah.The crucified are three.
Beloved, they are unlike.
Ador.Unlike.
Zerah.For one
Is as a man who has sinned and still
Doth wear the wicked will,
The hard malign life-energy,
Tossed outward, in the parting soul's disdain,
On brow and lip that cannot change again.
Ador. And one—
Zerah.Has also sinned.
And yet (O marvel!) doth the Spirit-wind
Blow white those waters? Death upon his face
Is rather shine than shade,
A tender shine by looks beloved made:
He seemeth dying in a quiet place,
And less by iron wounds in hands and feet
Than heart-broke by new joy too sudden and sweet.
Ador. And one!—
Zerah.And one!—
Ador.Why dost thou pause?
Zerah.God! God!
Spirit of my spirit! who movest
Through seraph veins in burning deity
To light the quenchless pulses!—
Ador.But hast trod
The depths of love in thy peculiar nature,
And not in any thou hast made and lovest
In narrow seraph hearts!—