Time Mystery before and Mystery behind, A nothing Now, a tremble and a fall— God of the future, Devil of the past, Man of the meaningless moment—here I stand. Great thought is all; life is a shell by the sea. When the great thought knows Him who moves in the deep, Joining the Self to the Self across the Self, come, Gone and Now are the Flame that licks up Time. 11-5-48 Page-7

Wondrous Chameleon No creature of rare moments white and gold Nor powered with a few flashes of wizardry But claiming each life-light as heaven's own, The soul sits smiling in the heart of time. Wondrous chameleon equal to all hues, Spurning no mood as void of the perfect dream, It breaks forth everywhere the epiphany: Out of its miracled deep it can lay bare With selfsame beauty of omnipotent ease The aureate Eternal, the argent Infinite, The grey God and the black Beatitude! Stainless, it makes of the most shadowy tones Ineffable mysteries of a deathless fire. . . . Each gaze divine, it leaps to every lure:

Voice front the Wideness A voice of myriad raptures with one soul, Hum of a measureless bee drunk with all flowers, Borne by a secret wind through night and day, Thrills from the wideness of the universe To an inmost silence lifting hands of prayer. The multitudinous call of transient things Comes perfumed now from an eternal deep And grows the breath of some far silver flute Playing a dream of earth's divinity. From everywhere it blows, yet like a word Brought delicately on a smile of trance By some vast lover to the loved one's ear— No name, but the rumour of a nameless fire, A tremulous tongue of golden myst

O Who Shall Tame the Tarpan?* A who shall tame the tarpan, Horse of wild Tartary? No word of wisdom in his ear Blows out the fire in his eye! He tosses off the saddle, He never brooks the bit— His snort at the earth comes clamouring For a freedom infinite. Out of the wastes of passion He brings within his soul A brutal beauty none can break: Earth-life is not his goal. He shakes up all our slumber, He tramples on our light; So deep his hoof-prints that they seem A scorn of heaven's height. But the vast and pathless places He longs for are a love Lost when he

Two Moons Over an endless groove that plunges and plunges, The globed liberties of the silver Calm Rejoice aloof from the all-engulfing pain. Against the background of that mystic Moon Roar the infinitude seas, the eternity hills Volcano to the Hush. Mere mocks in our sky, Stand the bare craters and the deep dry beds, Children of the burning pallor of mortal love. 11-5-48 Page-6

White Stallion White stallion champing the barley Of silent bliss— Gathering into thy heart's Vermilion abyss A power outrunning time, As if to a witching west Out of a wizard east Racing were one with rest, A calm that suddenly views Here grown to There, A wide-awake sleep devouring Aeons with a single stare! Fastest of all the flames Born of the Cave beyond sight, Bringing on starry nostrils A neigh that is night— Carrier of immortality Between blue wings, Yet hooved with a hurry to spurn Imperishable things— On all the tracks of truth Speed without peer, But unappeas

Beneath , Above My dawn's first look, the last look of my night Are a small window framing one slim tree, The mid-trunk visible, a groping brown, The top and base a secret to my sight. One pace from bed, in the morning of the mind Or in the heart's nocturnal glimmer and grey, Shows me the stem below, the leaves on high, A birth in clay, in void air a long search. But there's a cry from some great window lost: "Look not for truth without, truth lives within!". . Across the lonely strangenesses of sleep Looms a far vision that is night nor day: Between my drowse and my awakening, The tree is an Omniscience at blind play—

From 8th May to 8th August Forsake me not, Sweet Power! Make my life music with Thy kiss— I pray that if one hour Be without breath of Thy blue bliss, Let it be like the stop of a flute Where a master finger turns mute The magic air, that air may stream A perfect shape of the heart's dream Through other stops, and with each stifle free More subtle tones of the Infinite Mystery. 9-8-48 Page-123

Name after Name Name after name I give to God: Sublime or sweet are they— More magical than birth of stars, Mightier than death of day. Like some great lion stretched below The horizon of the west, His gold magnificence I see, Dazzling itself to rest. Like some huge harmony of swans Sprung from a sable sleep, Hangs the far vigil of white love His infinite mysteries keep. He stands, a rapture-haunted hill From which vast perfume blows— A hill upon whose summit drops A sky that is all rose. He calls, a sea whose thunder is light, A truth-revealing sound, As though the abyss of a million dre

The Master Bard rhyming earth to paradise, Time-conqueror with prophet eyes, Body of upright flawless fire, Star-strewing hands that never tire— In Him at last earth-groupings reach Omniscient calm, omnipotent speech, Love omnipresent without ache! Does still a stone that cannot wake Keep hurling through your mortal mind Its challenge at the epiphany? If you would see this blindness break, Follow the heart's humility— Question not with your shallow gaze The Infinite focussed in that face, But, when the unshadowed limbs go by, Touch with your brow the white footfall: A rhythm profound shall silence all! 11-6-48