OUR little queen of dreams, <br />Our image of delight, <br />Which whitens east and gleams <br />And beckons from the height, <br />Takes on her human form—is here in mortal sight. <br /> <br />We two have loved her long, <br />Have known her eyes for years; <br />We worshipped her with song <br />The spirit only hears, <br />And now she comes to us new-washed with blood and tears. <br /> <br />Her radiant self she veils <br />With vesture meet for earth, <br />And, knowing all, inhales <br />The lethal air of birth, <br />And wakes to restless dreams of misery and mirth. <br /> <br />The fogs of learning rise <br />And hide the light above, <br />But in her steadfast eyes <br />Will shine the light of love, <br />Which many a gloomy dale may know the gladness of. <br /> <br />What gift is ours to give, <br />What truth is ours to teach <br />That she may learn to live <br />With joy within her reach? <br />We can but let her learn the sound of human speech. <br /> <br />By custom-fettered fools <br />Her freedom will be blamed, <br />Because by sleepy rules <br />Her soul shall be untamed, <br />And she will front the sun brown-skinned and unashamed. <br /> <br />Her kinship she will know <br />With beast and rock and tree, <br />Wherever she may go <br />The sky her home will be, <br />The winds will be her mates, <br />her crooning nurse the sea.<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/incarnation/
