My faultless teachers bid me fare

The cypress path of blood and tears,

Treading the thorny wold to where

The painful Cross of Christ appears;

'Twas on another, sunnier hill

I met you first, my miracle.

The painted windows burn and flame

Up through the music-haunted air;

These were my gods—and then you came

With flowers crowned and sun-kissed hair,

Making this northern river seem

Some laughter-girdled Grecian stream.

When the fierce foeman of our race

Marshals his lords of lust and pride,

You spring within a moment's space,

Full-armed and smiling to my side;

O golden heart! The love you gave me

Alone has saved and yet will save me.

Perchance we have no perfect city

Beyond the wrack of these our wars,

Till Death alone in sacred pity

Wash with long sleep our wounds and scars;

So much the more I praise in measure

The generous gods for you, my treasure.