Lo, had begun again for her the time, The cyclic time (through Nature's fixed decree), That woman in her large fecundity Shares with the barren moon in every clime: Ten times in the revolving year plus three, As often as the moon moves round the earth, Whether a savage, queen, or peasant she, Then must she pause amid her toil or mirth; And, as a priestess under holy law, Pour the Great Mother, pour with reeling brain, Pour, often with the mystic rites of pain, Libations of the purple blood of awe, Blood of no sheep with fillets girdled thrice -- From her own body is the sacrifice. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE by WILLIAM BLAKE MARTHY VIRGINIA'S HAND [SEPTEMBER 17, 1862] by GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP TASTE, AN EPISTLE TO A YOUNG CRITIC by JOHN ARMSTRONG THE HAYMAKER'S SONG by ALFRED AUSTIN S. PHILIP YE DEACON by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |