Have I not touched thy spirit?
Have I not heard it sing?
And can my love inherit
A purer, sweeter thing?
Alas! I am so earthy,
Yet e'en God's love might be
Less dear to thee, less worthy
Than my humanity.
by Hilda Doolittle
As from a temple service, tall and dignified, with slow pace, each a
queen, the sixteen matrons from the temple of Hera pass before the
curtain--a dark purple hung between Ionic columns--of the porch or ...