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Home  »  The Second Book of Modern Verse  »  The Name

Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922.

The Name

WHEN I come back from secret dreams

In gardens deep and fair,

How very curious it seems—

This mortal name I bear.

For by this name I make their bread

And trim the household light

And sun the linen for the bed

And close the door at night.

I wonder who myself may be,

And whence it was I came—

Before the Church had laid on me

This frail and earthly name.

My sponsors spake unto the Lord

And three things promised they,

Upon my soul with one accord

Their easy vows did lay.

My ancient spirit heard them not.

I think it was not there.

But in a place they had forgot

It drank a starrier air.

Yes, in a silent place and deep—

There did it dance and run,

And sometimes it lay down to sleep

Or sprang into the sun.

The Priest saw not my aureole shine!

My sweet wings saw not he!

He graved me with a solemn sign

And laid a name on me.

Now by this name I stitch and mend,

The daughter of my home,

By this name do I save and spend

And when they call, I come.

But oh, that Name, that other Name,

More secret and more mine!

It burns as does the angelic flame

Before the midmost shrine.

Before my soul to earth was brought

Into God’s heart it came,

He wrote a meaning in my thought

And gave to me a Name.

By this Name do I ride the air

And dance from star to star,

And I behold all things are fair,

For I see them as they are.

I plunge into the deepest seas,

In flames I, laughing, burn.

In roseate clouds I take my ease

Nor to the earth return.

It is my beauteous Name—my own—

That I have never heard.

God keeps it for Himself alone,

That strange and lovely word.

God keeps it for Himself—but yet

You are His voice, and so

In your heart He is calling me,

And unto you I go.

Love, by this Name I sing, and breathe

A fresh, mysterious air.

By this I innocently wreathe

New garlands for my hair.

By this Name I am born anew

More beautiful, more bright.

More roseate than angelic dew,

Apparelled in delight.

I’ll sing and stitch and make the bread

In the wonder of my Name,

And sun the linen for the bed

And tend the fireside flame.

By this Name do I answer yes—

Word beautiful and true.

By this I’ll sew the bridal dress

I shall put on for you.