THE MEETING

The wind is hushed, the moon is bright,

More stars on heaven than may be told;

Young flowers are coying with the light,

That softly tempts them to unfold,

And trust the night.

What form comes bounding from above

Down Arafa, the mountain lonely,

Afraid to scare its long-lost dove,

Yet swift as joy — “It can be only,

Only my love!”

What shape is that — too fair to leave

On Arafa, the mountain lone?

So trembling, and so faint — “My own,

It must be my own Eve!”

As when the mantled heavens display

The glory of the morning glow,

And spread the mountain heights with day,

And bid the clouds and shadows go

Trooping away,

The Spirit of the Lord arose,

And made the earth and heaven to quiver,

And scattered all his hellish foes,

And deigned his good stock to deliver

From all their woes.

So long the twain had strayed apart,

That each as at a marvel gazed,

With eyes abashed, and brain amazed;

While heart enquired of heart.

Our God hath made a fairer thing

Than fairest dawn of summer day —

A gentle, timid, fluttering,

Confessing glance, that seeks alway

Rest for its wing.

A sweeter sight than azure skies,

Or golden star thereon that glideth;

And blest are they who see it rise,

For, if it cometh, it abideth

In woman's eyes.

The first of men such blessing sued;

The first of women smiled consent;

For husband, wife and home it meant,

And no more solitude!

We trample now the faith of old,

We make our Gods of dream and doubt;

Yet life is but a tale untold,

Without one heart to love, without

One hand to hold —

The fairer half of humankind,

More gentle, playful, and confiding:

Whose soul is not the slave of mind,

Whose spirit hath a nobler guiding

Than we can find.

So Eve restores the sweeter part

Of what herself unwitting stole,

And makes the wounded Adam whole;

For half the mind is heart.