120 . Incarnation

OUR little queen of dreams,

Our image of delight,

Which whitens east and gleams

And beckons from the height,

Takes on her human form—is here in mortal sight.

We two have loved her long,

Have known her eyes for years;

We worshipped her with song

The spirit only hears,

And now she comes to us new-washed with blood and tears.

Her radiant self she veils

With vesture meet for earth,

And, knowing all, inhales

The lethal air of birth,

And wakes to restless dreams of misery and mirth.

The fogs of learning rise

And hide the light above,

But in her steadfast eyes

Will shine the light of love,

Which many a gloomy dale may know the gladness of.

What gift is ours to give,

What truth is ours to teach

That she may learn to live

With joy within her reach?

We can but let her learn the sound of human speech.

By custom-fettered fools

Her freedom will be blamed,

Because by sleepy rules

Her soul shall be untamed,

And she will front the sun brown-skinned and unashamed.

Her kinship she will know

With beast and rock and tree,

Wherever she may go

The sky her home will be,

The winds will be her mates, her crooning nurse the sea.