Poems
THEME/S
Why, Soul, look ever ahead to the unborn Gods?
The flute of the future can pour its goldenest honey
Even now if the ear is tuned to the inmost hush.
The ecstatic end is each instant: here on thy brow
Sit all the epiphanies. Lustres that gather
Today are no flowerless path to paradise,
But a music and mystery hiding every heaven
Washed by the secret waves of prophecy.
Lovely the rainbowed horizon, the shimmery heart
Of the dreaming distance, but to live afar
Is blindness toward the deeps of wine within!. . .
Leaping below to unbuttoned bliss, the gap
Twixt throb and aching throb of the pulse of life
Crypts in a Calm that is mother of the worlds
The whole future's farness of the unblown rose!
Vast over thee the noon is everywhere:
An upward tunnel opens through the sun
To expanses that have never known a name
Nor broken with the faintest gossamer wing.
All the great Gods are waiting thy finger-flames
To rise and reach and taste with ten white tongues.
Straight runs the shaft of the flawless infinite hour
From pinnacle to abyss in a sheathed Now.
O the dark waste of this sweet pillar of gold,
A crystal python vertically hung
From burning mouth to burning tail, with a body
Plunging like groove on groove through endless light!
Timeless is the nectar laughing in that jar
Moment by moment: if never hast thou seen
That fullness flow in thy form, barren thy life
And a wide mirage the call of coming dawns.
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