The Great Mirror of Same-Sex Love - Poetry - 26. “…till our souls burn bright…”

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“…till our souls burn bright…”

At a Bridal

I shall be loved to-night: the waves will wind

Strong arms around me, and I shall not know

Thou liest in my lord’s arm folded low.

The kindly spray my yearning eyes will bind,

And so I shall not see love’s roses blow

In thy fair face what time my lord doth speak

His heart’s dear vow. I shall on either cheek

Be kissed by laughing waves; the waters’ flow

With soft caress will soothe and satisfy.

What need to wait for age with lingering pain

And torture show of unfulfilled desire

To rack and waste my body? Clear-souled, ay,

Full-limbed and willing, death’s calm rest I gain,

And quench in mid-sea love’s consuming fire.[i]

A Song

Smiles for the world and laughter, but for thee

Tears and my griefs and need of sympathy.

Toil all day lone without a pause for rest –

Slumber at night upon thy homing breast.

Weaving of veils to hide from curious eyes

The spirit and its sevenfold mysteries:

Communion sweet with thee, and ne’er a bar

To sever our betrothèd souls afar.[ii]

Except Thou Bless Me

I must be loved of thee:

Tired day in night

Reposes: spent with sound and blind with light,

I shelter ‘neath thy wings, O soul of sympathy –

Find room for me!

I must be lost in thee:

Who shall recall

The several drops of rain that singly fall

And in the ocean mingle? And from thy life’s sea

Who shall draw me?[iii]

A Lover’s Longing

Love, I would be alone with thee at dawn

Afar upon the sea’s tempestuous breast,

While hosts of light with dusky troops contest

The dominion of the waking world,

Till by triumph morn the night is hurled

From earth’s high crest,

And we into the splendour of the day are drawn.

Love, I would be alone with thee at night

Beneath the lofty, overarching sky,

While, one by one, God’s hand all silently

Unveils the trembling stars, and bids them shine

In their eternal purity divine,

Supreme on high,

Till our souls cast their shrouding, and burn bright.[iv]

Love’s Nearness

Your eyes meet mine – a surging throng between:

Our kindred spirits mingle all-unseen.

Pulse unto pulse, cry answers unto cry,

When comrade soul to comrade soul draws nigh.

Thoughts plead and grant without the need of speech:

Each hears a song quiver in the heart of each.

And, though your arms no trembling form enfold,

My life is sheltered from the storm and cold.[v]

— Elizabeth Gibson,

1902

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