190
THE EQUINOX
Widowed of its undying Lord,
Its bowl of silver broke, its cord
Of gold unloosed, its shining ladders
Thrown down, its ears more deaf than adders,
Its windows blind, its music stopped,
From its place in Heaven dropped,
From its starry throne was hurled
Beyond the pillars of the world—
Borne from the byss of light
To the Dark Night!
The moon had sunk behind the tower
When, for a moment, by the power
Of nature, as even the eagle’s eye
Turns wearied from the sun, did I
Fall from the conning-crag, that springs
Above the Universe of Things,
Into the dark impertinence
Of the mirrored lies of sense.
Yet, when I sought the stars to espy
And ree the runes of destiny,
Mine eyes their wonted office failed,
So diligently God had veiled
Me from myself! I could not hear
The drone and rustle of the weir.
No help in that world or in this!
I was alone in the abyss.
No Whence! no Whither! and no Why!
Not even Who evokes reply.
No vision and no voice repay