FEAR
TREAD softly; we are on enchanted ground:
One touch and every hidden thing lies bare,
The deep sea sundered, suddenly unbound
The awful thunders instinct in the air!
Oh, these we know; but what if we should break
A secret spell as easily as glass,
And stumble on their sleeping wrath and wake
The armies and the million blades of grass?
And find more dread than whirlwinds round our head,
The sweep of sparrows’ fierce, avenging wings,
The anger of wild roses burning red,
The terrible hate of earth’s most helpless things?
CHARITY
WHO think of Charity as milky-eyed
Know not of God’s great handmaid’s terrible name,
Who comes in garments by the rainbow dyed,
And crowned and winged and charioted with flame.
For Truth and Justice ride abroad with her,
And Honour’s trumpets peal before her face:
The high archangels stand and minister
When she doth sit within her holy place.
None knoweth in the depth nor in the height
What meaneth Charity, God’s secret word,
But kiss her feet, and veil their burning sight
Before her naked heart, her naked sword.