ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE

What is here, dost thou know it?

What was, hast thou known ? Prophet nor poet

Nor tripod nor throne

Nor spirit nor flesh can make answer, but only thy mother alone.

Mother, not maker,

Born, and not made; Though her children forsake her,

Allured or afraid,

Praying prayers to the God of their fashion, she stirs not for all that have pray'd.

A creed is a rod,

And a crown is of night; But this thing is God,

To be man with thy might,

To grow straight in the strength of thy spirit, and live out thy life as the light.

I am in thee to save thee,

As my soul in thee saith ; Give thou as I gave thee,

Thy life-blood and breath,

Green .leaves of thy labour, white flowers of thy thought, and red fruit of thy death.

Be the ways of thy giving As mine were to thee ; The free life of thy living,

Be the gift of it free ;

Not as servant to lord, nor as master to slave, shalt thou give thee to me.

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