The Return of the Children

Neither the harps  nor  the  crowns  amused,  nor  the  cherubs' dove-winged races—
Holding  hands  forlornly  the  Children  wandered  beneath  the Dome,
Plucking the splendid robes  of the  passers-by,  and with pitiful  faces
Begging what Princes and Powers refused:—"Ah, please will you let us go home?"

Over the  jewelled floor, nigh weeping,  ran to  them Mary the Mother,
Kneeled  and  caressed and made promise  with  kisses,  and  drew them along to the gateway—
Yea, the all-iron unbribeable Door which Peter must guard and none other.
Straightway She took the Keys from his keeping, and opened and freed them straightway.

Then, to Her Son, Who had seen and smiled,  She said:  "On the night that I bore Thee,  
What didst Thou care for a love beyond mine or a heaven that was not my arm?
Didst Thou  push from the  nipple,  O  Child,  to  hear the  angels adore Thee
When we two lay in the breath of the kine?" And He said — "Thou hast done no harm."

So through the Void the Children ran homeward merrily hand in hand,
Looking neither to left nor right where the  breathless  Heavens stood  still.
And the Guards of the Void resheathed their swords, for they heard the Command:
"Shall I that have suffered the Children to come to Me hold them against their will? "