Last Words To Miriam

Yours is the shame and sorrow     But the disgrace is mine;     Your love was dark and thorough,     Mine was the love of the sun for a flower     He creates with his shine.     I was diligent to explore you,     Blossom you stalk by stalk,     Till my fire of creation bore you     Shrivelling down in the final dour     Anguish - then I suffered a balk.     I knew your pain, and it broke     My fine, craftsman's nerve;     Your body quailed at my stroke,     And my courage failed to give you the last     Fine torture you did deserve.     You are shapely, you are adorned,     But opaque and dull in the flesh,     Who, had I but pierced with the thorned     Fire-threshing anguish, were fused and cast     In a lovely illumined mesh.     Like a painted window: the best     Suffering burnt through your flesh,     Undrossed it and left it blest     With a quivering sweet wisdom of grace: but now     Who shall take you afresh?     Now who will burn you free     From your body's terrors and dross,     Since the fire has failed in me?     What man will stoop in your flesh to plough     The shrieking cross?     A mute, nearly beautiful thing     Is your face, that fills me with shame     As I see it hardening,     Warping the perfect image of God,     And darkening my eternal fame.