The World’s Tragedy

I8 THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. Beyond speech, beyond song, beyond evidence. There is wonder intense, a miraculous sun, As the many are molten and mixed into one With the heat of its passion ; the one hath invaded The heights of its soul, and its laughter is braided With comets whose plumes are the galaxies Like winds on the night’s inaccessible seas. Oh master ! my master ! nay, bid me not ride To the heaven beyond heaven ; for I may not abide. I faint : I am frail : not a mortal may bear The invisible light, the abundance of air. I fail : I am sinking : O Thou, be my friend ! Bear me up ! Bear me up ! Bear me up to the end ! Now ! Now ! In the heart of the bliss beyond being The None is involved in the One that, unseeing, Dashes its infinite splendour to death Beyond light, beyond love, beyond thought, beyond breath. Ah ! but my master ! the death of the sun — Break, break, the last veil ! It is done — It is done, He falls, as one dead, upon the grass. HERACLEITUS I bless these happy virgins, souls unstained, Through whose delight my darling hath attained