Pale is the dream we dream alone,
An unresolving fire,
Till beacon hearts make it their own
And men are lit with man's desire.
I mourn no Gilead fair,
Back to my own I speed,
And all my tears are falling where
They sell the sun for bread.
Mine too the blow, the unwept scar;
Mine too the flames that sere;
And on my breast not one proud star
That leaves a brother's heaven bare.
Life is the search of God
For His own unity;
I walk stone-bare till all are shod,
No gold may sandal me.
I come, O comrades, faster yet!
For me no bough-hung shade
Till every burning foot be set
In ferns of Gilead.
The old, old pain of kind,
Once mine, is mine once more;
And I forget the way behind,
So dear is that before.
LA DAME REVOLUTION
Red was the Might that sired thee,
White was the Hope that bore thee,
Heaven and Earth desired thee,
And Hell from thy lovers tore thee;
But barren to the ravisher,
Thou bearest Love thy child,
Immortal daughter, Peace; for her
Waits Man, the Undefiled.