The Secret Splendour

Wide art thou, Fire, priest of our offering, free

 Wideness within us, lavish the sky glow!

As a wheel's nave contains the spokes, so thou

 Containest all the golden gods in thee!

Priest-souls, to win that laughing Sea of Sight,

 By their vast ranging have uncovered all

The hidden rivers voiceful with the Light.

Inmost felicity free of every form

 Leaps forth fire-tongued to taste life's myriad name....

A lightning is the outbreaking of Truth's Dream,

A thunder is the outstriking of Truth's Word.

Guarding the seasons of the Truth, He knows

All in me: Him I know not nor possess—

The Enemy-binder, all-felicity's Lord....

Who are the keepers of the blinded word,

Thy comrades once, now muttering crookedness?

 The heart of sacrifice, the head that bows

Gain the King-Bull in whom all life is stored—

Wide fear-free pasture of the shining cows—

That honeyed World, Richness still left,

the unplumbed Excess!

No whirler of a brute and stupid Ring,

A senseless Law whose cycles fruitless roll,

He makes a Path and leads on it as King:

There is a myriad March to a single Goal....

In the Vast, where no foundation is, the Inmost One

Pyramids high the fuel of sacrifice

Flame-feeding the white body of Truth's Sun.

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