IN LIMIN Ε
(IGNO'I‘LUM PER IGNOTIUS)
0 Rose of Death, open thy petals wide!
Aching with infinite sweetnesses within
To crush the wavering insect, and to xvin
From the deep crimson heart of thee a tide
Of wondrous Life; as when the Crucified,
Hanging in shame to expiata all sin,
Found in the dying thief a soul akin
Το His own soul.
Is not all Truth allied?
Ο miracle of miracles sublime,
That all created things should sink to climb!
Ο mystery incarnate of the soul,
That dies but to be born anew!
The whole
One monstrous effigy of Life, that Time
Scrawls with fantastic hands from pole to pole.
ARCHER??:חתפמ