You are not as other maidens,
Wild Rose,
Nor as the women whose darkness like a cloud enwombs the future ...
No, you are not the mystery through which the children toil down from the Eternal,
Nor Earth of the mellow udders for the lips of babes ...

Flesh goes through flesh in that procession which like the sun shines between two darknesses,
But where is your mortal mother, O Bird, O Golden, Golden Bird?
Rather your mother was the deep still pool where only the forest sings cradle-song, sings lullaby,
And where from mute waters you opened and spread the purity of your whiteness and your greenness
Over black passionate roots, Water-Lily, my Water-Lily.

In a strange way, from a strange place, sombre and eternal,
You came, dropped like moon-gold among the deep leaves,
Till the Cities of the Many Flesh found you with lifted face among the faces,
And the women turned to look at the slender stem upbearing the pure passion of that gazing glory,
Whose long hair robbed the moon,
Whose eyes had stolen from the sea ...

Eternal Maiden among the mothers,
You are younger and older than the new babe and the ancient wisdoms,
Young as the lily petals white on the blue waters,
Old as the black roots fastened in Chaos ...
Wild-rose, spirit of play, whimsy of the grey stones and the yellow mullein,
Sea-beaming sun-ray dancing among the pines,
Child that can never age so long as April keeps on returning,
Dark monstrous invisible glory behind the laughter and sparkle of your dalliance,
Goddess as deep as Demeter in the wild-rose raiment ...

You are not as other maidens,
Wild Rose,
No, nor as the mothers, the mothers of the Earth,
But you have come down to be Golden Bird leading rapt men into vision and victory,
Gathering them in, like a ghostly immaculate virgin, to a womb of the spirit
Wherefrom, reborn, they come with immortal youth.

She of Orleans was your sister in the shining of the days of the holy cathedrals,
She that led the dark poet up spirals of the skies through Paradise, was your sister,
She that drew the great soul of Faust upward and onward into heaven, was your sister,
Eternal Maiden, immortal Wild-Rose, everlasting Lily ...

I have seen you touch with faint intoxication of the Drink of the Gods, pale weighted spirits,
I have seen you splendid as one in armour leading the hosts of the young to high invisible battles,
I have felt the hurricane in you, blasting the dead ways open in the shatter of old cities,
I have tasted your storm, O Maiden, I have blown in your rains,
I have crept into the chaos of your heart and drunk from the black roots of rhapsodic song,
Till I came forth, arrayed in wonder ...

You are not as other maidens,
Wild Rose,
You are not as the mothers, the mothers of the Earth ...
You are Golden Bird, Golden Bird darting into the heavens and singing as you go,
And I follow, I follow, my eyes forever lifted.