CANTO THREE   THE ENTRY INTO THE INNER COUNTRIES     AT first out of the busy hum of mind As if from a loud thronged market into a cave By an inward moment's magic she had come, A stark hushed emptiness became her self: Her mind unvisited by the voice of thought Stared at a void deep's dumb infinity. Her heights receded, her depths behind her closed; All fled away from her and left her blank. But when she came back to her self of thought, Once more she was a human thing on earth, A lump of Matter, a house of closed sight, A mind compelled to think out ignorance, A life-force pressed into a camp of works And the

CANTO SEVEN1     IN the little hermitage in the forest's heart, In the sunlight and the moonlight and the dark The daily human life went plodding on Even as before with its small unchanging works And its spare outward body of routine And happy quiet of ascetic peace. The old beauty smiled of the terrestrial scene; She too was her old gracious self to men. The Ancient Mother clutched her child to her breast Pressing her close in her environing arms, As if earth ever the same could for ever keep The living spirit and body in her clasp, As if death were not there nor end nor change. Accustomed only to read outward

    CANTO TWO   THE JOURNEY IN ETERNAL NIGHT AND THE VOICE OF THE DARKNESS     A WHILE on the chill dreadful edge of Night All stood as if a world were doomed to die And waited on the eternal silence' brink. Heaven leaned towards them like a cloudy brow Of menace through the dim and voiceless hush. As thoughts stand mute on a despairing verge Where the last depths plunge into nothingness And the last dreams must end, they paused, in their front Were glooms like shadowy wings, behind them pale The lifeless evening was a dead man's gaze. Hungry beyond, the night desired her soul. But still

CANTO TWO   SATYAVAN     A LL she remembered on this day of Fate, The road that hazarded not the solemn depths But turned away to flee to human homes, The wilderness with its mighty monotone, The morning like a lustrous seer above, The passion of the summits lost in heaven, The titan murmur of the endless woods. As if a wicket gate to joy were there Ringed in with voiceless hint and magic sign, Upon the margin of an unknown world Reclined the curve of a sun-held recess; Groves with strange flowers like eyes of gazing nymphs Peered from their secrecy into open space, Boughs whispering to a constancy of light

CANTO FIVE   THE FINDING OF THE SOUL     ONWARD she passed seeking the soul's mystic cave. At first she stepped into a night of God. The light was quenched that helps the labouring world, The power that struggles and stumbles in our life, This inefficient mind gave up its thoughts, The striving heart its unavailing hopes. All Knowledge failed and the Idea's forms, And Wisdom screened in awe her lowly head Feeling a Truth too great for thought or speech, Formless, ineffable, for ever the same. An innocent and holy Ignorance Adored like one who worships formless God The unseen light she could not claim nor own. In a simple p

BOOK TEN   The Book of the Double Twilight   CANTO ONE   THE DREAM TWILIGHT OF THE IDEAL     ALL still was darkness dread and desolate; There was no change nor any hope of change. In this black dream which was a house of Void, A walk to Nowhere in a land of Nought, Ever they drifted without aim or goal; Gloom led to worse gloom, death to an emptier death, In some positive Non-Being's purposeless Vast Through formless wastes dumb and unknowable. An ineffectual beam of suffering light Through the despairing darkness dogged their steps Like the remembrance of a glory lost; Even while it grew, it seemed

CANTO TWO   THE GOSPEL OF DEATH AND VANITY OF THE IDEAL     THEN pealed the calm inexorable voice: Abolishing hope, cancelling life's golden truths, Fatal its accents smote the trembling air. That lovely world swam thin and frail, most like Some pearly evanescent farewell gleam On the faint verge of dusk in moonless eves. "Prisoner of Nature, many-visioned spirit, Thought's creature in the ideal's realm enjoying Thy unsubstantial immortality The subtle marvellous mind of man has feigned, This is the world from which thy yearnings came. When it would build eternity from the dust, Man's thought paints images illusion rounds;

CANTO FOUR   THE DREAM TWILIGHT OF THE EARTHLY REAL     THERE came a slope that slowly downward sank; It slipped towards a stumbling grey descent. The dim-heart marvel of the ideal was lost, Its crowding wonder of bright delicate dreams And vague half-limned sublimities she had left: Thought fell towards lower levels, hard and tense It passioned for some crude reality. The twilight floated still but changed its hues And heavily swathed a less delightful dream; It settled in tired masses on the air; Its symbol colours tuned with duller reds And almost seemed a lurid mist of day. A straining taut and dire be