Where you have laid it, let the sword divide:
And let your unmotherly Medea be
Here sundered from our human trinity
The Mother and the Virgin and the Bride.
Why should we falter? Ours shall be the mirth
And yours the amaze when you have thinned away
Your starving serfs to fit their starveling pay
And seen the meek inheriting the earth.
That Christ from this creative purity
Came forth your sterile appetites to scorn
Lo: in her house Life without Lust was born
So in your house Lust without Life shall die.
— from The Queen of Seven Swords (1926).