Ii

Under my feet, O Death, Under my trembling feet! Back, through the gates of hell, now give me way. I come.--I bring new Breath! Over the trampled shards of mine own clay, That smoulder still, and burn, Lo, I return! Hail, singing Light that floats Pulsing with chorused motes:-- Hail to thee, Sun, that lookest on all lands! And take thou from my weak undying hands, A precious thing, unblemished, undefiled:-- Here, on my heart uplift, Behold the Gift,-- Thy glory and my glory, and my child!