The Equinox (Volume I, Number I)

AVE ADONAI Pace as the night that pales In the dawn’s pearl-pure pavilion, I wait for thee, with my dove’s breast Shuddering, a god its bitter guest— Have I not gilded my nails And painted my lips with vermilion? Am I not wholly stript Of the deeds and thoughts that obscure thee? I wait for thee, my soul distraught With aching for some nameless naught In its most arcane crypt— Am I not fit to endure thee? Girded about the paps With a golden girdle of glory, Dost thou wait me, thy slave who am, As a wolf lurks for a strayed white lamb? The chain of the stars snaps, And the deep of night is hoary! Thou whose mouth is a flame With its seven-edged sword proceeding, 351