41 TWO IN TWILIGHT

Ave, Maria! whom Love did move To triumph over earthly love. Mother and Maid, now that wan stars take flight, And larks with song assail high heaven’s height, Unwillingly we lose the kindly night That sheltered us when we were fain thereof. For we are frail, and know not of His aim, Yet Whosoever made us—were His name Jove or Jehovah,—should we dare to blame Our Maker that He made us fit for love?— Were we not modeled by an Artizan That to His liking shaped the soul of man, And fashioned all things after His own plan. Divulging nothing of the aims thereof?— Is it by His grace we grow adventurous, And, laughing, say:—Love proves victorious,— Who made love potent? if love hoodwink us How may we dare reprove Him That made love? MATER, ORA FILIUM, UT POST HOC EXILIUM NOBIS DONET GAUDIUM BEATORUM OMNIUM!

Ave, Maria! now cry we so That see night wake and daylight go. Mother and Maid, in nothing incomplete, This night that gathers is more light and fleet Than twilight trod alway with stumbling feet, Agentes semper uno animo. Ever we touch the prize we dare not take! Ever we know that thirst we dare not slake! Yet ever to a dreamed-of goal we make— Est tui cœli in palatio! Long, long the road, and set with many a snare; And to how small sure knowledge are we heir That blindly tread, with twilight everywhere! Volo in toto; sed non valeo! Long, long the road, and very frail are we, That may not lightly curb mortality, Nor lightly tread together steadfastly, Et parvum carmen unum facio:— MATER, ORA FILIUM, UT POST HOC EXILIUM NOBIS DONET GAUDIUM BEATORUM OMNIUM!