Weep for the pain, the travail, the old curse ;
Weep,
weep,
and die.
So dawns at last the Grail,
The Glory of the Crucified
!
Dear friend.
Be happy, for my heart goes out to you,
And most
to that poor pale Elizabeth —
Were it not only that the selflessness
That fills me now,
forbids the personal,
Casts out the individual,
and weeps on
For the united sorrow of all things.
For if I die,
it is not Tannhaiiser,
Rather
a spark of the supreme white light
That dwelt and flickered in him in old time ;
That Light,
I say, that hides its flame awhile
To shine more fully —to redeem the world
'
I say,
then,
" I "
; and yet it is not " I "
Distinct,
but " I " incorporate
in All.
I am,
the Resurrection
and the Life !
The Work is finished, and the Night rolled back !
I am the Rising Sun of Life and Light,
The Glory of the Shining of the Dawn
!
I am Osiris !
I the Lord of Life
Triumphant
over death. —
O Sorrow,
Sorrow,
Sorrow of the World
!
Heinrich.
This was
my friend.
Deep night descends,
perfused
With unsubstantial glory from beyond.
140