THE AFTER WOMAN.

By Francis Thompson

Daughter of the ancient Eve,

We know the gifts ye gave — and give.

Who knows the gifts which YOU shall give,

Daughter of the newer Eve?

You, if my soul be augur, you

Shall — O what shall you not, Sweet, do?

The celestial traitress play,

And all mankind to bliss betray;

With sacrosanct cajoleries

And starry treachery of your eyes,

Tempt us back to Paradise!

Make heavenly trespass;— ay, press in

Where faint the fledge-foot seraphin,

Blest Fool! Be ensign of our wars,

And shame us all to warriors!

Unbanner your bright locks,— advance

Girl, their gilded puissance,

I’ the mystic vaward, and draw on

After the lovely gonfalon

Us to out-folly the excess

Of your sweet foolhardiness;

To adventure like intense

Assault against Omnipotence!

Give me song, as She is, new,

Earth should turn in time thereto!

New, and new, and thrice so new,

All old sweets, New Sweet, meant you!

Fair, I had a dream of thee,

When my young heart beat prophecy,

And in apparition elate

Thy little breasts knew wax-ed great,

Sister of the Canticle,

And thee for God grown marriageable.

How my desire desired your day,

That, wheeled in rumour on its way,

Shook me thus with presentience! Then

Eden's lopped tree shall shoot again:

For who Christ's eyes shall miss, with those

Eyes for evident nuncios?

Or who be tardy to His call

In your accents augural?

Who shall not feel the Heavens hid

Impend, at tremble of your lid,

And divine advent shine avowed

Under that dim and lucid cloud;

Yea,‘ fore the silver apocalypse

Fail, at the unsealing of your lips?

When to love YOU is ( O Christ's Spouse! )

To love the beauty of His house;

Then come the Isaian days; the old

Shall dream; and our young men behold

Vision — yea, the vision of Thabor mount,

Which none to other shall recount,

Because in all men's hearts shall be

The seeing and the prophecy.

For ended is the Mystery Play,

When Christ is life, and you the way;

When Egypt's spoils are Israel's right,

And Day fulfils the married arms of Night.

But here my lips are still.

Until

You and the hour shall be revealed,

This song is sung and sung not, and its words are sealed.