92 
THE MANTRA-YOGI 
 
 
Half skilled to agonise, half skilled to soothe 
 The passion ineluctable, this power 
 Slave to its single end, to storm the tower 
That holdeth thee, who art Authentic Truth. 
 
O golden hawk !  O lidless eye !  Behold 
How the grey creeps upon the shuddering gold !   
 Still I will strive !  That by the striving broken 
I may exhaust this me !  That thou mayst sweep 
Swift on the dead from thine all-seeing steep— 
 And the unutterable word be spoken.