THE EQUINOX
Of this sweet spring, I hear the call again:
I bear the chalice of lilies under the moon,
I bear the red-tipped lilies under the moon.
And the blue light is merged into the flame
Unquenchable of matter. We are sunk to sleep
In the clods of earth, . . . and now we have forgotten,
And the moods break upon us as they list
From all the quarters of the lower worlds,
Calling us hither and thither; where, we know not,
We know not, O my silent one, but still
The sorrowfulness of Eld, the romance of sorrow,
Are ours; we are parted, but the searchis still
Though all the worlds wherethrough we have ever ranged :
Through all the planes where we have ever sought
The hidden root, and the pale, yellow blossom.
Oh, I must name thee again, my Rose, my Rose.
Through the blue depths of the skies; in the tumbling
waters ;
Midst the antic winds; through the red heart of the fire;
How shall I know thee in the maze of things,
In the monotonous gold of the rolling worlds?
The mage hath seen thee with the eye of Fire ;
The lover hath known thee in the sea of Air.
The worlds hath hung all trembling on the lyre
That the old god bears still with unwearying hand,
Touching the strings to passionate mortal prayer,
Answering or answering not, immortal still.
Oh, through the maze how can I understand?
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