An anonymous poem

      ER feet are set in darkness--at Her feet
      We kneel, for She is Mother of us all--
      A mighty Mother, with all love replete;
      We, groping ’midst the shadow’s dusky pall,
      Ask not to see the upper vision bright,
      Enough for us Her feet shine clear--all virgin white.
      Her wings are tipped with golden light, but we
      Ken but the shadow at Her pinions’ base--
      We kneel before Her feet, we cannot see
      The glory that illuminates Her face,
      For he who t’wards the vision gazeth up
      Finds first the stricken breast--the sacrificial cup!
      Her feet gleam in the darkness--at Her feet
      We lay the price of those twin pearls of Heav’n--
      All that man hath--an offering incomplete
      Is his who yet his best would leave ungiv’n;
      And as She stoops Her guerdon to bestow,
      His life’s blood in Her cup, outstretched there, needs must flow!
      Her wings are in the shadow--Lo! they cast
      That shadow e’en o’er Heav’n’s own light, we cry,
      For in the darkness, terrible and vast,
      She spreads the wing to which the soul must hie;
      But, to that shelter led, our upward gaze
      Beholds Her pinions formed of Light’s celestial rays!
      Her feet are in the darkness, but Her face
      Is in high Heav’n--all Truth inhabits there;
      All Knowledge and all Peace, and perfect grace,
      And in the wonder of Her joy they share
      Who, blindly clinging to Her feet erstwhile,
      Obtained the priceless gift--the vision of Her smile.

"At the Feet of Isis" is reprinted from The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. Ed. D.H.S. Nicholson. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1917.




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