Come, Mighty Mother, from the bright abode,
Lift the low heavens and hush the Earth again;
Come when the moon throws down a shining road
Across the sea—come back to weary men.
But if the moon throws out across the sea
Too dim a light, too wavering a way,
Come when the sunset paves a path for Thee
Across the waters fading into gray.{122}
Dead nations saw Thee dimly in release—
In Aphrodite rising from the foam:
Some glimmer of Thy beauty was on Greece,
Some trembling of Thy passion was on Rome.
For ages Thou hast been the dim desire
That warmed the bridal chamber of the mind:
Come burning through the heavens with Holy Fire,
And spread divine contagion on mankind.
Come down, O Mother, to the helpless land,
That we may frame our Freedom into Fate:
Come down, and on the throne of nations stand,
That we may build Thy beauty in the State.{123}
Come shining in upon our daily road,
Uphold the hero heart and light the mind;
Quicken the strong to lift the People’s load,
And bring back buried justice to mankind.
Shine through the frame of nations for a light,
Move through the hearts of heroes in a song:
It is Thy beauty, wilder than the night,
That hushed the heavens and keeps the high gods strong.
I know, Supernal Woman, Thou dost seek
No song of man, no worship and no praise;
But thou wouldst have dead lips begin to speak,
And dead feet rise to walk immortal ways.
Yet listen, Mighty Mother, to the child
Who has no voice but song to tell his grief—
Nothing but tears and broken numbers wild,
Nothing but woodland music for relief.{124}
His song is but a little broken cry,
Less than the whisper of a river reed;
Yet thou canst hear in it the souls that die—
Feel in its pain the vastness of our need.
I would not break the mouth of song to tell
My life’s long passion and my heart’s long grief,
But Thou canst hear the ocean in one shell,
And see the whole world’s winter in one leaf.
So here I stand at the world’s weary feet,
And cry the sorrow of the world’s dumb years:
I cry because I hear the world’s heart beat
Weary of hope, weary of life and tears.
For ages Thou hast breathèd upon mankind
A faint wild tenderness, a vague desire;
For ages stilled the whirlwinds of the mind,
And sent on lyric seers the rush of fire.{125}
And yet the world is held by wintry chain,
Dead to Thy social passion, Holy One:
The dried-up furrows need the vital rain,
The cold seeds the quick spirit of the sun.
Some day our homeless cries will draw Thee down,
And the old brightness on the ways of men
Will send a hush upon the jangling town,
And broken hearts will learn to love again.
Come, Bride of God, to fill the vacant Throne,
Touch the dim Earth again with sacred feet;
Come build the Holy City of white stone,
And let the whole world’s gladness be complete.{126}
Come with the face that hushed the heavens of old—
Come with Thy maidens in a mist of light;
Haste for the night falls and the shadows fold,
And voices cry and wander on the height.
{127} 
