Le simple amour, pourtant, est bel et bon.
Il est digne d'accueil. La flamme fière
consume temple et lin. Même lumière
surgit du bois de cèdre et du chardon.
L'amour est feu. Quand je dis en passion :
Je t'aime !... vois, je t'aime... ! dans ma prière
je suis transfigurée ; sous ta paupière
je sens se verser de nouveaux rayons
de ma face à la tienne. Car rien n'est bas
dans l'humble amour des moindres créatures
qui aiment Dieu. Dieu ne les renie pas.
Ce que je sens, dans les simples figures
de ce que je suis, montre en son éclat
l'œuvre d'amour rehaussant la Nature.
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax. An equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed.
And love is fire ; and when I say at need
I love thee... mark ! I love thee !... in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low
In love, when love the lowest : meanest creatures
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax. An equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed.
And love is fire ; and when I say at need
I love thee... mark ! I love thee !... in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low
In love, when love the lowest : meanest creatures
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.
