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

The Adventure of the Apocalypse We deem the darkness and the throe True measure of each ecstasy's glow: Only the background of huge night Reveals our drama of delight. We are enamoured of each fall That high winds of the mountain's call May kiss the sweeter. How shall we Grave sorrowless divinity? Wanderer of gleam and gloom, man's orb Of vision never can absorb The adventure of the apocalypse— Until his passion inward dips Where hides, behind both dazzle and dark, Perfection's pygmy, the soul-spark Plunged in the abyss to grow by strange Cry of contraries, chequer and change Of pain and pleas

The Sleeper on the Serpent Eternal rest, the Almighty's deepest power— Unchanging Self that makes all beings one And draws together the uttermost extremes With never the smallest break in motionless peace— Sleeper on the serpent of infinity, The ever-still Lord of the universe Ruling all time from those gigantic coils That keep a single folded secrecy In which no past and future stretch away But the far tail lies gripped in the far mouth, A circled calm of packed omniscience! We toil to gain brief riches of repose Or tiny treasures of uncertain lore: Tranquillity here is wealth for ever full, Intense gold

Single Without a Second Breath of the boundless blue, Throb of the perfect gold, 'Poise of the peak that is purple, Green wideness rapture-rolled— Streak of new moon that trickles Some immortality, Trance-touch of stars like a love Whose depth no man can see— All these are felt by us, Our aching eyes are called To many a far wood-gloom Fairily waterfalled— Our trembling hand bares heaven With a tiny stroke of the brush, Or through the quill's faint quiver Eagles of ecstasy rush— Wonders are all about, Wonders well up within, A gurgle sweeter than any name, A deep unworded d