Unfulfilled Fulfilment   Within this deep fulfilment grows the vision of a richer glory, making unfulfilled our hearts. Our dreams in meeting kiss to momentary glory, and all eternity's white dreams pass unfulfilled... This mock of each fulfilment we must pass, pass its small completeness to gather all those dreamers' places beyond our lone time-paths. The emptiness of this fulfilment grows upon our vision's heart, our fear's heart that dreams the next quick empty moment like sudden death... and dreams too the fulfilment just beyond, — beyond our power: a blessing that shall turn the ways to meeti

Lila   What is it matters, crazy one? — The play of spirit in the universe, the soul dancing its myriad dances to the old remembered tune; the joy-tinks dancers intersperse among the stars, the heart's pursuit within the maddened fancy's whirl of One who dances opposite; the spirit's singing ecstasy in leaf and flower and powerful root, in wind and sun and the limbs of a girl, and leaping waves of the sea; the beat, the eternal rhythmic beat of pulsing blood, the swirl and sway, the poise, the peace, the contemplation, the miracle deep joy of endless interplay. Page-62

Within the Darkness   Everywhere in the depths of things A sacred river runs, A welling music ever sings Of strange and buried suns...   Farther and deeper down Time's dance The ancient waters flow, Cold stony law-towers swoon in trance, Dead orders whirl in woe;   Life's lavas burst, fierce fire-flakes fly, The fettered Dragon, free, In one leap swallows up the sky And sinks back in the sea.   The age-old world-stairs rock and crash, Far-flung in baleful blight; The rising dragon-waters smash Mind's pillared halls of light.   Primeval darkness holds all things, Numb lie all memories; But

The Key   There are no keys to the place of the Presence, We wait and wait outside; If you should hear the stir of His footsteps, Mingle in dust your pride.   Only His will shall open the strict gate, We wait until He choose; My key of white peace, your key of white passion, Will they be any use?   The sword of pain hangs over the doorway, Pray you, don't risk the door; 'Tis handsome waiting after the journey Bridging the farther shore...   But one in our midst, whom the urge could hold not, Sprang up with sudden start, And went to the silent doors of unawareness; The sword went through his heart.   And someone

Stone-dead   In the heart of the rockhold imprisoned, In the depth of the midnight cave, I have spent these long years of anguish, Stretching arms to you vainly to save.   The darkness has only grown deeper, The dryness has burnt up my eyes; If the being were cleft asunder, From the dead stone no streams would arise.   A weight as of granite ages Is upon me, and never a gleam Do you send of your beauty or sweetness — Not even by way of a dream.   Yet dim-groping within this mountain, Still seeking the golden springs, Sometimes I have thought maybe only It is You, folding me 'neath your wings. Page-129

When will it end?   When will this poor drama end? The tired heart begins to crack; How long to play on and pretend When Truth is ever calling back?   Back home to worlds beyond this show, To arms of wondrous tenderness, And eyes that understand and know, And a smile the very soul's caress.   Is it not time to go home still, And leave this pageantry and masque? What is the naked spirit's will, What does its deepest longing ask?   Oh, just to put by everything, Each single thing that holds apart, And quietly merge with all who cling In rapture to that loving Heart. Page-152

-130_All's Over All's Over   All's over. Is the last word said? Ah, isn't there some melody So magic-sweet it wakes the dead, With spells of old from across the sea?   Or is there not some faerie spring Of sun-charged waters, hidden deep Within our hill, whose touch can bring Life once again to those who sleep?   We knew once of a sacred flame Burning in midnight caves, whose kiss Of ardour had the power to claim The dead back from the dark abyss.   Where is that fire, that fount, that spell? And whose the robe of purity To find the sealed cave 'neath the hill, To walk upon that unknown sea? Page-132

A Voice   Should I be thought worthy to speak my prayer, From midst these broken and imperfect things, Where we are exiles — who were meant for kings, — I'd speak it on the shattered night's despair, On the lone dark of thudding waters where Dim sea-mews brood, unlit, with folded wings; Or boldly as the innocent sparrow flings Its heart on the dangerous widenesses of air:   Till through the splintered spaces of the earth, A voice go forth informing every soul With one deep beauty, with one passionate fire Infusing all unto the Primal Whole; Till through all sorrow struggle to their birth The perfect worlds and skies of our Des

What was it?   Was it a smile in the blue radiant night? — We climbed a stairway as into opening skies, A-throb with strange pulsations, ancient ties Of love and longing, and hidden deep delight; Silent and tense we went, so still and white The mind with inward power; no bright surmise Nor dream nor trail of sunlit memories Could ever know that ecstasy of sight.   What was it? Sovereign Beauty seated there, Or Love incarnate pouring all its grace? A marvellous Presence filling all the air With sweetness so ineffable, awhile Our souls enraptured in its pure embrace Lay lost? — Or was it just one luminous smile? Page-92

Adwaita   Who touched me? Shapes of music whisper Of lonely memories which pass Across the spirit's stillness, murmuring  "All flesh is grass".   Who touched me? Shapes of music answer;  "A wandering world-lost melody Passed out into the wild night, saying, 'My soul is free'."   Where music spun its strange, fine soul-webs, Turning each thought to song of dew, Who touched me in the darkness, saying, "But who are you?" Page-64