1905 · PDF PAGE 11
Rosa Mundi
… the holiest. Shaken and crossed The threads Lachesis wove fell from her hands. The pale divided strands Where taken by thy master-hand, Eros ! Her evil thinkings cease, Thy miracles begin. Eros ! Eros ! Be silent ! It is sin Thus to invoke the oracles of order Their iron gates to unclose. The gross, inhospitable warder Of Loves green garden of spice is well awake. Hell hath enough of Her three-headed hound ; But Loves severer bound Knows for His watcher a more fearful shape, A formidable ape Skilled by black art to mock the Gods profound I…
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