Poems By Arjava

BEFORE the chronicles of time began

Or sundering space her canopy unfurled,

The uncreated Over-Thought had plan

Itself to lose—self-offered, form a world.

Smooth as untrodden snow the gleaming Host,

Fraught with all history, ringed by opal pyx,

Shone through eternity rays innermost

On all symbolic forms that intermix

Silence of Heaven with lisping speech.  God takes

His very substance that from Beauty came ;

Then with world-urging power He freely breaks

The bread that builds the fabric of His Name.

Seven great realms the fragments make : and we

In meanest dust may touch Divinity.