22
FREE LOVE.
And she, the mother, tossing high in arms,A babe.Thereat, the adulteress spake;"I bow men's hearts unto my will.Invade the homes of peace, and sowThe seeds of wantonness."
I saw a maiden in a field,Where gleamed the autumn sheaves;The quail piped its shrill note,Among the grainless stubble.And on a bough, the whistling black-bird sung.As if to rival her whose voiceLike sweetest lute was strung.The flush of beauty on her brow,The light of heaven in her eye.
I heard a voice, and lo!One stood who drewWith hurrying feet, the multitude.For words of fire and eloquence came forth,From lips that owned no tyrant's sway.And farther on, a wood I viewed,And there an altar.From which rose the smoke of sacrifice,And she, the great mother of harlots spake;"These are my sacrifices.Babes slaughtered before their birth,For where I rule, there lust and woe,Cumber all earth.
