Marjorie L. C. Pickthall (1883–1922)

‘There was a marriage in Cana of Galilee…. And both Jesus was called, and His disciples, to the marriage.’

—John II. 1–2.

VEIL thine eyes, O belovèd, my spouse,

Turn them away,

Lest in their light my life withdrawn

Dies as a star, as a star in the day,

As a dream in the dawn.

Slenderly hang the olive leaves

Sighing apart;

The rose and silver doves in the eaves

With a murmur of music bind our house.

Honey and wine in thy words are stored,

Thy lips are bright as the edge of a sword

That hath found my heart,

That hath found my heart.

Sweet, I have waked from a dream of thee,—

And of Him.

He Who came when the songs were done.

From the net of thy smiles my heart went free

And the golden lure of thy love grew dim.

I turned to them asking, ‘Who is He,

Royal and sad, who comes to the feast

And sits Him down in the place of the least?’

And they said, ‘He is Jesus, the carpenter’s son.’

Hear how my harp on a single string

Murmurs of love.

Down in the fields the thrushes sing

And the lark is lost in the light above,

Lost in the infinite glowing whole,

As I in thy soul,

As I in thy soul.

Love, I am fain for thy glowing grace

As the pool for the star, as the rain for the rill.

Turn to me, trust to me, mirror me

As the star in the pool, as the cloud in the sea.

Love, I looked awhile in His face

And was still.

The shaft of the dawn strikes clear and sharp:

Hush, my harp.

Hush, my harp, for the day is begun,

And the lifting, shimmering flight of the swallow

Breaks in a curve on the brink of morn,

Over the sycamores, over the corn.

Cling to me, cleave to me, prison me

As the mote in the flame, as the shell in the sea,

For the winds of the dawn say, ‘Follow, follow

Jesus Bar-Joseph, the carpenter’s son.’