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