Here you will find thePoemLove Sonnet LVIIIof poet Zora Bernice May Cross
Do not surcharge our souls with that vile blame To which our bodies are subjected here; Nor heap them with the horror of dull fear Base-borrowed from a life of torpid shame. But let them linger like a lovely flame Above the clay to which they must cohere, Lighting the earthly to the heavenly sphere To meet the mystery from which they came. As midnight drinks a message from the moon And morning takes her orders from the sun, So let our bodies to our souls submit And live for ever in their still high-noon, Where morn and midnight gather into one, And only angels on their missions flit.
