Bitter Gifts

My captive soul knelt at my lady's feet.
And said, " O queen, what are thy gifts to me?"
All strong and pale and mute, it knelt, and she,
Seeing its capture utter and complete.
Sighed just a little and looked down on it.
And said, " I would that I could make thee free.
For, lo! the gifts that I must give to thee
Are bitter gifts indeed, and no way sweet."

Then, with a robe the folds whereof were fire.
She clothed my soul in unfulfilled desire,
And crowned it with a crown of grief, and said,
"Rise up! go forth, and labor in thy day."
So crowned with grief, with torture garmented,
My soul arose and, speechless, went its way.