Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917.
Anonymous333. At the Feet of Isis
H
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.
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!
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!
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!
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.