Balm in Gilead

Heartsease I found, where Love-lies-bleeding Empurpled all the ground: Whatever flowers I missed unheeding, Heartsease I found.

Yet still my garden mound Stood sore in need of watering, weeding, And binding growths unbound.

Ah, when shades fell to light succeeding I scarcely dared look round: “Love-lies-bleeding” was all my pleading, Heartsease I found.

“In the day of his Espousals.”

That Song of Songs which is Solomon’s Sinks and rises, and loves and longs. Thro’ temperate zones and torrid zones, That Song of Songs.

Fair its floating moon with her prongs: Love is laid for its paving stones: Right it sings without thought of wrongs.

Doves it hath with music of moans, Queens in throngs and damsels in throngs, High tones and mysterious undertones, That Song of Songs.

“She came from the uttermost part of the earth.”

“The half was not told me,” said Sheba’s Queen, Weighing that wealth of wisdom and of gold: “Thy fame falls short of this that I have seen: The half was not told.

“Happy thy servants who stand to behold, Stand to drink in thy gracious speech and mien; Happy, thrice happy, the flock of thy fold.

“As the darkened moon while a shadow between Her face and her kindling sun is rolled, I depart; but my heart keeps memory green: The half was not told.”

Alleluia! or Alas! my heart is crying: So yours is sighing; Or replying with content undying, Alleluia!

Alas! grieves overmuch for pain that is ending, Hurt that is mending, Life descending soon to be ascending, Alleluia!

The Passion Flower hath sprung up tall, Hath east and west its arms outspread; The heliotrope shoots up its head To clear the shadow of the wall: Down looks the Passion Flower, The heliotrope looks upward still, Hour by hour On the heavenward hill.

The Passion Flower blooms red or white, A shadowed white, a cloudless red; Caressingly it droops its head, Its leaves, its tendrils, from the light: Because that lowlier flower Looks up, but mounts not half so high, Hour by hour Tending toward the sky.