Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/191

 Sky all wrapped about your head Blue and sweet, Earth all golden from the tread Of your feet.

God, who of all this world of ours Gathers flowers, Gathered you in the old sublime Flower time: If God had left some flowers like you— Who can tell?— He might have had yet one or two Flowers that fell.

O then there were great sins of course; Men were worse Some ways no doubt; at any rate Men were great: We cannot bear their mail, much less Lose or win Their heavens, through their great holiness Or great sin.