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Poem: To She Who Walks in Light

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To She Who Walks in Light

Were Light endowed with human form,
Were Joy endowed with Life,
Upon the earth, in matter wrought,
Would stand my love, my wife.

A priestess she, of Earthly creed,
Her vows to Thought, and Light,
Her temple, bright Reality,
And I her love, her knight.

Her form, alive with radiant joy
She knows that she is Good
Her soul, a thing immaculate,
Be less?  Ne’er would, nor could.

For what to gain, through sacrifice?
Of one's own supreme Joy?
What cause, to seek out suffering?
Why Gold, with lead alloy?

What choice is there, to one as Her!
‘Tween Reason, Life – and pain!
What choice to her, ‘tween Life and Death!
When Life’s her life’s refrain!

And what to me, this radiant form?
This Angel of the Right?
And what to me, this shining soul?
Wrought only of pure Light?

But this, and all – I see in Her
All that I love in me
And as I know whence that love comes,
Cannot less love, than see.

And were I to ask of myself
To name that which I feel,
When my eyes meet her form, her face,
When we with act, love seal –

I would reply, Were all the stars
That are, and ever were,
To shine with all their strength as one,
They would be dim, next Her.

And all that light, nought but a trace
Of that joy we endure
When comes that burst, of two as one,
Each of our Glory, sure.

Good God, I love her as my life!
I love her as the Earth!
All that is Good in female form!
Pure, incandescent worth!

And were ten thousand years to pass,
Ten thousand times, or more,
My love for her, each day, would be
No less than that before.

Ten thousand years, ten thousand times?
By all the stars above!
Not time enough, to see her face!
Not time enough, to love!

For as I love this Earth, and Life,
Such is my love for You.
Ten thousand years, ten thousand times?
Each dawn, dear wife,

I Do.

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