The Sword of Song

THE SWORD OF SONG 38 Destroying passion, feeling, thought, The very practice you have sought Unconscious, when you work the best, I carry on one step firm-pressed Further than you the path, and you For all my trouble, comment : “True ! “Auto-hypnosis. Very quaint !”53 No one supposes me a Saint—54 Some Saints to wrath would be inclined With such a provocation pecked ! But I remember and reflect That anger makes a person blind, And my own “Chittam” I’d neglect. Besides, it’s you, and you, I find, Are but a mode of my own mind. But then you argue, and with sense; “I have this worthy evidence That things are real, since I cease The painter’s ecstasy of peace, And find them all unchanged.” To-day I cannot brush that doubt away ; It leads to tedious argument Uncertain, in the best event : Unless, indeed, I should invoke The fourth dimension, clear the smoke Psychology still leaves. This question Needs a more adequate digestion. Yet I may answer that the universe Of meditation suffers less From time’s insufferable stress Than that of matter. On, thou puny verse ! Weak tide of rhyme ! Another argument Will block the railway train of blague you meant To run me over with. This world Or that ? We’ll keep the question furled. But, surely, (let me corner you !) You wish the painter-mood were true! To leave the hateful world, and see Perish the whole Academy ; So you remain for ever sated, On your own picture concentrated ! Objectivity of universe not discussed. Preferability of concentration- state to the normal. 630 635 640 645 650 655 660 666 670