Classic Poem

In the dark night I heard a purring,
Near me something was stirring.

A voice, deep-throated, spoke:

I litter armies for all easts and wests
And norths and souths:
They suckle my girl-goddess breasts,
And my fierce milk drips from their mouths.

The voice sang:

I do not kill! I, Sekhmet the Lion-headed, I!
But between my soft hands they die.

I asked:
O Sekhmet, Lion-headed one,
How long shall warring be?

And Sekhmet deigned to make reply:

Eternally!
Bold in my faith I grew:

Dread goddess-cat, you lie!
Warring shall cease.
My God of love is greater far
Than you.

How gentle was the voice of Sekhmet then;

He of the Star?
He Whom they called the Prince of Peace—
And slew?
And slew again—and yet again?
Ah yes!—she said.

And all about my bed
The night grew laughing-red:
Sekhmet I did not see,
But in that bleeding dusk I heard
How Sekhmet purred.