Analysis of Incarnation

OUR little queen of dreams,   
Our image of delight,   
Which whitens east and gleams   
And beckons from the height,   
Takes on her human form—is here in mortal sight.           

We two have loved her long,   
Have known her eyes for years;   
We worshipped her with song   
The spirit only hears,   
And now she comes to us new-washed with blood and tears.           

Her radiant self she veils   
With vesture meet for earth,   
And, knowing all, inhales   
The lethal air of birth,   
And wakes to restless dreams of misery and mirth.           

The fogs of learning rise   
And hide the light above,   
But in her steadfast eyes   
Will shine the light of love,   
Which many a gloomy dale may know the gladness of.           

What gift is ours to give,   
What truth is ours to teach   
That she may learn to live   
With joy within her reach?   
We can but let her learn the sound of human speech.           

By custom-fettered fools   
Her freedom will be blamed,   
Because by sleepy rules   
Her soul shall be untamed,   
And she will front the sun brown-skinned and unashamed.           

Her kinship she will know   
With beast and rock and tree,   
Wherever she may go   
The sky her home will be,   
The winds will be her mates,
her crooning nurse the sea.