Poem by Alice Meynell

The Divine Privilege

Lord, where are Thy prerogatives?
    Why, men have more than Thou hast kept;
The king rewards, remits, forgives,
    The poet to a throne has stept.

And Thou, despoiled, hast given away
    Worship to men, success to strife,
Thy glory to the heavenly day,
    And made Thy sun the lord of life.

Is one too precious to impart,
    One property reserved to Christ,
One, cherished, grappled to that heart?
    —To be alone the Sacrificed?

O Thou who lovest to redeem!—
    One whom I know lies sore oppressed,
Thou wilt not suffer me to dream
    That I can bargain for her rest.

Seven hours I swiftly sleep, while she
    Measures the leagues of dark, awake.
O that my dewy eyes might be
    Parched by a vigil for her sake!

But O rejected! O in vain!
    I cannot give who would not keep.
I cannot buy, I cannot gain,
    I cannot give her half my sleep.

1. To the Body
2. Beyond Knowledge
3. To Any Poet
4. The Two Poets
5. A Poet's Wife

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