Poems by Themis

Thirst

From lands of famine we have spoken,

Before the coming down of rain,

Before the radiant one, the purest,

Has cleansed the fields of thirst and pain;

While trembling rivers lie and wait

Aswoon in yearning mute and long,

For God's white touch upon their limbs

To gather meaning for their song;

And still dark wraps the prisoned root,

Longing to shape its ecstasy

Of happy drink, in flower and fruit,

When glimmering rain shall set it free;

And little voices, little dreams,

And birds, and golden germs and seeds

Wait praying for your purity

To make them prosper in their creeds.

Before you come, O Beautiful,

Upon the unfilled heart of earth,

Only the words of sorrow move,

Only the songs of dust and dearth.

In silence come, in secrecy,

Or splendour of the lightning vow,

O come, O long-awaited come,

With purest touch on every brow.

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