WHITE HORSE

White horse, white horse,

Deathlessly wake....

Out of the cavern of our sleep

Like laughter break

Into the moon's pure flush

And the stars' pale sheen!

How can thy magic colour mate

With grey or green,

The grey of drowsing soil

And the green of wood-gloom?

Thy feet have wings: for thee was built

Heaven's wide room.

Soar through the silver deeps

On a passion of prayer

Until the lost dawn echoes thy love

From its gold lair!

Sri Aurobindo's Comment

"Very good—a beautiful poem. Intuitive—intensely so."

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