The Great War

from Late Songs, an electronic edition

The Soul Praises the Body

This holy body where Thou hast kept

For a brief season watch with me,

It shall not go unpraised, unwept,

When it shall break to set me free.

At its low door Thou hast come in,

And in Thy passage made it bright;

The poor stones where Thy feet have been

Turn now to rose and diamond light.

Face downward on my dusty floor,

Angels have bowed since Thou wert there,

And made it clean Thine eyes before,

Swept by their feathers and their hair.

Fragrances linger, a sweet smoke

Blown backward from Thy royal way,

So all the envious heavenly folk

Guess Thou wert here at break of day.

This body is now Thy holy house

Where Thou didst come and sit at feast,

While all the golden birds in boughs

Acclaimed the Day-Star and my Guest.