Wring your hands, O Mary Margaret;
Wring your hands, and not in vain:
The torrents of the purple sky
Are coursing through your tangled brain.

In your heart the blood is beating
To the changes of the seasons.
In your brain the blood is pounding
With the thoughts of gods and demons.

Tremble as the night around you
Shivers with the clash of Powers.
Time approaches like a Titan:
Feel the tread of heavy hours.

All the threads of all the worlds
Are flowing over, in, and through you.
It is not for you to weave them:
Let the tapestry happen to you.

Time is an impassioned lover
Seeking you with eager eyes.
Still your nerves and calm your senses.
Heave your breast upon the skies.

Fearful, trembling Mary Margaret,
You are here, and now, and this.
Joy is but a wiser waiting.
Greet the Present with a kiss.