Sin was a terrible and ruddy sword,
My hands were only lilies, only made
To lay against his lips, and so I prayed
Another weapon. Willingly I poured
On his strong heart the gifts that could accord
With my life’s fact, but Ah! the gifts were weighed
And all found wanting—and I was afraid
Of love which was so dreadfully my lord.
He showed me the magnificence, the height
To be attained for those who dare to seek,