Would I were beautiful!
Then you at Beauty's shrine might freely dine,
A welcome guest
For joy's bequest.
But, dear, if this were so,—
If I were Beauty's child, all undefiled,
To make you blest
In beauty's quest,
You might forget to see
The soul's pure hidden shrine wherein e'er shine
The things that test
Love's true behest.
Would I were beautiful,
That you might better see the soul in me!
That wish is best,
Is 't not, dearest?
[IS THERE ANYTHING PURER?]
Oh, the prayer of a dear virgin-heart,
Breathed forth with true love's gentle art!
Is there anything purer
On land or on sea,
More laden with blessing
For you or for me?
It is sweeter than song ever heard,
More precious than love's spoken word.
It is fraught with a keen recognition
Of truest soul-need and fruition.
Is there anything purer
On land or on sea,
More laden with comfort
For you or for me?
It is oftentimes born in great pain,
With no ray of hope's blessed gain.
But as lulled by the angels at midnight
Ere reaching the infinite daylight
Is there anything surer,
On land or on sea,
To bring the God-Father
To you or to me?