Parables at Four

THROUGH glasses of her darkness
She seeth what is seen,
Watching my heart forever
With childhood in between.

When she shall know me even
As she herself is known,
Give me the wings of morning
That I may flee my own.

In such a light as beateth
When wisdom’s sight is freed,
I who have loomed like Sinai
Shall shrink to mustard seed.

Straightness inhabited never
Such mansionry as hers,
No oak that grew by Shechem,
No green of desert firs.

When I must think how Heaven
WiII some day bow this head,
Then Rachel mourneth in my ribs
And is not comforted.