In the dark night I heard a stirring, Near me something was purring. 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 That Sekhmet purred. |