My cradle was the atom, On the breast of the sea I slumbered Through a long aeonian night And wakened on the morning of the world!
The fern and the shrub and the tree Were my playmates — The wind was my nurse Singing me wild songs.
I stretched out my hands to the rain. And grew glad in the sun; I dreamed of my sisters the stars Of my brother the moon.
I was housed with the cattle; For them I opened the doors of speech, Turned their dull dreams To the words of a song.
To him of the fang I was Terror! In the light of my face he was furtive, Shrank back to his den — Ceasing to tear with his teeth.
I had learned to stand on my feet. To smite with my hands, To hurl a huge stone At python and tiger.
I roared with wild laughter! In the light of my brother the moon I danced with my mate To the dance of my sisters the stars.
At dawn I went forth To hurl with the hammer Or thrust with the spear, And grew heavy from hunting.
I returned to the cave And saw her white body Naked against the sun Red in the west on the mountains.
I drew near to my Love Who saw me and sang The song of the hunter Home from the hunting.
The Babe at her breast she held up And danced in her arms for his father — Danced till he croodled and crowed, Dimpled with joy of his father!
For them I builded a hut Of saplings and wattles, And she with her fingers Fashioned bowls from the clay.
We dreamed as we toiled, We sang as we dreamed; And ever the task Took the form of our song:
We dreamed that the wilderness Blossomed; that the meadows Thickened with ripening corn Yellow and green in the noontide.
We sang of the millet and wheat, Of the barley and rye And the purple grape-clusters Hanging down from the vine.
We sang of the flax And the oil of the olive After the time of the sound Of the flails on the floor.
We dreamed that a city Rose out of the jungle — A city of towers and walls, Of palaces, statues and pictures.
So great was our love That, though we died, By birth we came back To keep tryst with each other!
She was proud Semiramis; Helen of Troy was she; Hers was the song of Miriam, And the red-wet hands of Jael!
Once was her dear name Sappho, Singing the song of the cave — Of him who hurled with the stone, The hunter home from the hunting!
Where the Nile is an amber bow She dreamed and waited for me Coming down in my trireme of war, Enslaved at her smile!
So through the ages we met, So through the ages we parted: Each time that we met After the silence that sundered,
Fairer and fairer was she; And I grew more like a god, Cleansed and made strong by the tears Shed for the sorrow we suffered;
Till one day we stood in a garden — A little green garden of lilies Hard by a Tomb that was open Wide to the joy of the morning;
There in the hush of the dayspring Breathing of dew-sprinkled lilies White as the snow upon Hermon, We knew that our Love was immortal!
Out of the wildness We had grown us a rose — Out of its thorns We had fashioned a crown!
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