“O my belovèd,” so she sang,
“Your death-hour was birth-hour:
You are radiant with the sun-crown of man …
My conqueror has come from the hills, my god has come down from the mountains …

“O you in whom the wild, the golden energy, even Life,
Was sucked down into the dead depths of the Past,
You have fetched Life up out of Earth in you, and it overruns,
It overruns to the barren world …

“I feel your loosed love radiantly
Pouring from your heart to my heart …
You have lost your Mother, to find her …
For your Mother is Life, is Life!”