—     11     — 
 
Beheld in the mirror of truth, 
The Rose indifferent to God’s gesture, 
The Rose on moonlight wings 
That flies to the House of Fire, 
The Rose of Honey-in-Youth ! 
Ah !  No dim mystery of desire 
Fathoms this gulph !  No light invades 
The mystical musical shades 
Of a faith in the future, a dream of the day 
When athwart the dim glades 
Of the forest a ray 
Of sunlight shall flash and the dew die away ! 
 
Let there then be obscurity in this ! 
There is an after rapture in the kiss. 
The fire, flesh, perfume, music, that outpaced 
All time, fly off ;  they are subtle :  there abides 
A secret and most maiden taste ; 
Salt, as of the invisible tides 
Of the molten sea of gold 
Men may at times behold 
In the rayless scarab of the sinking sun ; 
And out of that is won 
Hardly, with labour and pain that are as pleasure, 
The first flower of the garden the stored treasure 
That lies at the heart’s heart of eternity. 
This treasure is for thee.