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CONFESSIONS.
I.
FACE to face in my chamber, my silent chamber,
I saw her!
God and she and I only, . . there, I sate down to
draw her
Soul, through the clefts of confession. . . Speak, I
am holding thee fast,
As the angels of resurrection shall do it at the last.
"My cup is blood-red
With my sin," she said,
"And I pour it out to the bitter lees,
As if the angels of judgment stood over me strong
at the last,
Or as thou wert as these!"
II.
When God smote His hands together, and struck
out thy soul as a spark,
Into the organised glory of things, from deeps of
the dark,—
Say, didst thou shine, didst thou burn, didst thou
honour the power in the form,
As the star does at night, or the fire-fly, or even the
little ground-worm?
