THE BELOVED

by: Katharine Tynan Hinkson (1861-1931)

      LOW gently over my garden,
      Wind of the Southern sea,
      In the hour that my Love cometh
      And calleth me!
      My Love shall entreat me sweetly,
      With voice like the wood-pigeon;
      ‘I am here at the gate of thy garden,
      Here in the dawn.’
       
      Then I shall rise up swiftly
      All in the rose and grey,
      And open the gate to my Lover
      At dawning of day.
      He hath crowns of pain on His forehead,
      And wounds in His hands and feet;
      But here mid the dews of my garden
      His rest shall be sweet.
       
      Then blow not out of your forests,
      Wind of the icy North;
      But Wind of the South that is healing
      Rise and come forth!
      And shed your musk and your honey,
      And spill your odours of spice,
      For one who forsook for my garden
      His Paradise!

"The Beloved" is reprinted from The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. Ed. D. H. S. Nicholson and A. H. E. Lee. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1917.

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