About Iris Oliveira
Iris Oliveira living Rue du Village No: 363 Nice France
Neither would they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead
I was quick in the flesh, was warm, and the live heart shook my breast;
In the market I bought and sold, in the temple I bowed my head.
I had swathed me in shows and forms, and was honored above the rest
For the sake of the life I lived; nor did any esteem me dead.
But at last, when the hour was ripe-was it sudden-remembered word?
Was it sight of a bird that mounted, or sound of a strain that
I was 'ware of a spell that snapped, of an inward strength that
Of a Presence that filled that place; and it shone, and I knew
And the dream I had called my life was a garment about my feet,
For the web of the years was rent with the throe of a
With a sweep as of winds in heaven, with a rush as of flames that meet,
The Flesh and the Spirit clasped; and I cried, 'Was I dead so long?'
I had glimpse of the Secret, flashed through the symbol obscure
And I felt as a fire what erst I repeated with lips of clay;
And I knew for the things eternal the things eye hath not seen;
Yea, the heavens and the earth shall pass; but they never
shall pass away.
And the miracle on me wrought, in the streets I would straight
'When this marvel of mine is heard, without cavil shall men receive
Any legend of haloed saint, staring up through the sealèd stone!'
So I spake in the trodden ways; but behold, there would none believe!