The Adventure of the Apocalypse

Not far enough

Not far enough our mystic soul has strained.

Above thought's flicker, the mind—a trance of truth—

Grows a white ether which embraces all;

Still higher a life of lone beatitude

That knows all things by knowing its own self;

But highest a calm secret more intense

Than mind's epiphany, life's apocalypse,

Than infinite truth or timeless ecstasy—

Sheer God, at once eternity and earth!

In this ineffable extreme our soul

Finds the pure substance of the undying One,

Catches the power that proves the deepest gloom

A veiled beauty brighter than widest day,

And comes back with the alchemic touch that turns

Even flesh a dense gold grip of divinity!

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