NONE spake when Wilson stood before The throne -- And He that sat thereon Spake not; and all the presence-floor Burnt deep with blushes, as the angels cast Their faces downwards. Then at last, Awe-stricken, he was 'ware How on the emerald stair A woman sat, divinely clothed in white, And at her knees four cherubs bright, That laid Their heads within her lap. Then, trembling, he essayed To speak: -- "Christ's mother, pity me!" Then answered she: -- "Sir, I am Catherine Kinrade." Even so -- the poor dull brain, Drenched in unhallowed fire, It had no vigour to restrain -- God's image trodden in the mire Of impious wrongs -- whom last he saw Gazing with animal awe Before his harsh tribunal, proved unchaste, Incorrigible, woman's form defaced To uttermost ruin by no fault of hers -- So gave her to the torturers; And now -- some vital spring adjusted, Some faculty that rusted Cleansed to legitimate use -- Some undeveloped action stirred, some juice Of God's distilling dropt into the core Of all her life -- no more In that dark grave entombed, Her soul had bloomed To perfect woman -- swift celestial growth That mocks our temporal sloth -- To perfect woman -- woman made to honour, With all the glory of her youth upon her. And from her lips and from her eyes there flowed A smile that lit all Heaven; the angels smiled; God smiled, if that were smile beneath the state that glowed Soft purple -- and a voice: -- "Be reconciled!" So to his side the children crept, And Catherine kissed him, and he wept. Then said a seraph: -- "Lo! he is forgiven." And for a space again there was no voice in Heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA by SAMUEL HAWKINS MARSHALL BYERS THE MOWER AGAINST GARDENS by ANDREW MARVELL OF BEAUTY by EVA K. ANGLESBURG TO A HUMMING BIRD by GLADYS ARNE ASPIRATIONS: 12 by MATHILDE BLIND |