Classic Poem

Throned upon light, Thou very God, Love our Queen,
Daughter of God, mystery-worker, hear me!
Spare from all love's weariness and bitterness
My spirit, O Queen!
Come to me! Thou didst come of old when I called,
Hearing all my crying upon the throne of
Thy Heaven; yea, didst come in answer, and leave
God's palace of gold,
Harnessing to Thy chariot; the love-birds,
Making haste, bore Thee to the gloom of our earth,
With the quick beat of many wings, adown mid-
Air from Heaven's height.
Swiftly they come. Then, Blessed Helper, ah! then,
Smiling on me with very face immortal,
Thou wouldest ask: What trouble I had, and why
I summoned Thee;
What was I most fain to have in the wildness
Of passion? " What new love is it wouldest Thou
Draw to Thee by Thy loving influence? Who,
Psappha, wrongeth Thee?
Tho shunning Thee, she to-morrow shall ask Thee —
Tho refusing Thy offerings, give herself —
Tho kissing Thee not, to-morrow to Thy lips
Press kisses unsought. "
Come to me now! and deliver from all my
Hard sorrows: and of the longing within me
Fulfil all: and be ever, I beseech Thee,
My succour and shield.