Last Words to Miriam

 
 
Yours is the shame and sorrow	
  But the disgrace is mine;	
Your love was dark and thorough,	
Mine was the love of the sun for a flower	
  He creates with his shine.	        
 
I was diligent to explore you,	
  Blossom you stalk by stalk,	
Till my fire of creation bore you	
Shrivelling down in the final dour	
  Anguish--then I suffered a balk.	        
 
I knew your pain, and it broke	
  My fine, craftsman's nerve;	
Your body quailed at my stroke,	
And my courage failed to give you the last	
  Fine torture you did deserve.	        
 
You are shapely, you are adorned,	
  But opaque and dull in the flesh,	
Who, had I but pierced with the thorned	
Fire-threshing anguish, were fused and cast	
  In a lovely illumined mesh.	        
 
Like a painted window: the best	
  Suffering burnt through your flesh,	
Undrossed it and left it blest	
With a quivering sweet wisdom of grace: but now	
  Who shall take you afresh?	        
 
Now who will burn you free	
  From your body's terrors and dross,	
Since the fire has failed in me?	
What man will stoop in your flesh to plough	
  The shrieking cross?	        
 
A mute, nearly beautiful thing	
  Is your face, that fills me with shame	
As I see it hardening,	
Warping the perfect image of God,	
  And darkening my eternal fame.