His Lady of the Sonnets

by Robert Winkworth Norwood

XX

When singing first my smitten heart's lament,
My thought was only turned upon my pain,
And I was also querulous with Cain,
Crying: "This thing that thou on me hast sent
Is more than I can bear!" But now content,
Peace, and a quiet joy close the refrain
Of passionate protesting with a strain
Of dulcimers and silver trumpets blent:

For though my shame be branded on my brow,
And you in tears have driven me afar
Because I faltered and forgot my vow,
The night has still for me a single star
That will not let me quite forget your eyes—
You, and the dear dream-hours of Paradise!

XXI

Since we have sundered been by broken vow
Of faith and trust—the fault was mine, O Heart—
Much have I learned of Woman and the part
She plays in shaking from the laden bow
Life's blossoms; all that has been, and is now,
And ever shall be: Science, Music, Art,
Religion, these, as from a fountain start
The rivers, have been hers—Man to endow.

So must I, wounded in the valley, call
To you, alone upon the morning-height:
Praise and thanksgiving for the throw and fall!
Vanquished by you, I shall rise up and fight
Him armed with trident and the subtle mesh—
Mankind's most ancient enemy, the Flesh!

XXII

Through what dark centuries have all your kind
Upon the cross of Sex been crucified!
Betrayed with kisses, smitten, then denied;
Mocked in the place of judgment, and made blind
To please the ruling of some priestly mind.
Along the cobbled highroad straight and wide,
They have gone bleeding, stumbling forth, and died
That Man through them might his redemption find.