ROSA IGNOTA
Under the soil of every star that glows,
A hanging lamp, under the Firmament:
There shall be no more roses, no more roses . . .
Until the spring of the stars shall fall on the world;
Then shall be light again, O secret Rose,
And thou shalt be born anew, with radiant starlight
For dew, and all thy petals shall be dreams
Crystallised of the gods who swing the wheels
Of the worlds in space; and at the heart of thee
Shall be the secret knowledge, the sacred Word,
The AOTOS of the throbbing Universe.
And the years shall pass in myriads over the Tree
Whereon thou bloomest, O my Rose o’ the worlds,
And one shall pluck thee forth ; and Love and Death
Shall lie together, and there shall be born
He who shall bear for ever into life
The rose-tipped lilies under the silent stars,
The silent stars, and the new-blushing roses.
O Rose! my Rose o’ the World, my Rose of Roses,
Thou shalt be born anew, and live for ever!
XVIII
THE YELLOW SQUARE
DeatH! Death! In the cool green colonnades of time
I pursue thee; thou art fled before me now
In the silence. By the secret door I wait
For a sign of thee; but thou art fled before me
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