The Sword of Song

THE SWORD OF SONG 42 Now who dares Call me no Christian ? And, who cares ? Read ; you will find the Master of Balliol, Discarding Berkeley, Locke, and Paley’ll Resume such thoughts and label clear “My Christianity lies here !” With such religion who finds fault ? Star, it seems foolish to exalt Religion to such heights as these, Refine the mystic agonies To nothing, lest the mystic jeer “So logic bends its line severe Back to my involuted curve !” These are my thoughts. I shall not swerve. Take them, and see what dooms deserve Their rugged grandeur—heaven or hell ? Mind the dark doorway there !62 Farewell ! How tedious I always find That special manner of my mind ! Aum ! let us meditate aright On that adorable One Light, Divine Savitri ! So may She Illume our minds ! So mote it be ! 795 800 805 810 815 Christian mystics not true Christians. What think ye of Crowley ? His interlo- cuter dis- missed, not with a jest, but with a warning. Poet yawns. Aum !