One Pure Word   I would not speak the speech of mortals, When I would speak with Thee; Our words are dim and shadowy portals That veil sincerity.   I would not — yet the speech of gods Is far beyond my reach; — Wherein the vibrant truth-light fills Dark lacks of human speech.   The darkness breaks up all we say, One thought splits up another; Alone among the splints of words Gleams one pure love-word: "Mother".   On this one word I hang my song, My life, my soul, my all: The world's night swallows everything, I let the silence fall   Around my words; I know Thy Grace, Know Thy compassion sweet Ga

Every Form   Over all the earth and sky Golden gifts of beauty lie; Did you see the lovely Hand That scattered over sea and land Forms of rich beatitude, Mirroring in every mood Of line and hue and delicate tone Mysteries of worlds unknown? Did you see the flaming Heart Infinity's white doorways part, Pouring out the stars and suns And the fiery light that runs From vale to peak and over the hill, — Fiat of His mighty Will. Over all the sky and earth, Innumerable sparks of mirth; Over all the lands and seas, Ineffable sweet melodies. And every flash and every glow Is He Himself, if we would kno

Awakening   The paths of the moon curve and falter Within the gulfing night; The horizons undulate and alter, The keen stars take their flight.   The soul, asleep within the waters, Unfolded and alone, Stirs restive in the silent grottos, Adream with the Unknown.   The strong winds rock the earth to pieces, And trees uprooted lie; The spirit muses and increases Beyond the unbarred sky.   The searching joy-rays run their fingers Reluming through the deeps Each soul-drop where the darkness lingers,  And God's white glory sleeps. Page-8

Your Coming   Laughter of light, Laughter of love, Through spaces of stillness Break forth above.   I know you are coming. For everywhere Reverberates Your Name Through earth and air...   In bud and blossom, In star and tree, Intense and vibrant Your melody.   And I know you are here, Deep, deep within; For all the outer spaces Have just caved in. Page-149

First Edition 1952 Second Edition 1994   (Typeset in Palatino 11/14)         ISBN 81-7058-383-7 © Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust 1994 Published by Sri Aurobindo International Centre of Education Printed at Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press, Pondicherry PRINTED IN INDIA

Memories   Sometimes I wonder what voices speak Within the strains that come to us; Perhaps a chorus from the Greek, Perhaps some echo mysterious   Of melodies of Spain or France, Or lilt of English country-song; Faint rhythms of an Indian dance; — To whom do all these tunes belong?   The rivers of far ages flow With a thousand muffled murmurings To subterranean wells below, From where our inner fountain springs.   The dreams of many by-gone earths Mingle within our memories, And memories of other births, And life in other realms than these.   So charged each word with inward stress Reverberates from cave

Lone Tune   All that our dark earth was, All it will ever be, Is rooted in the Cause That Is, eternally.   The Silence breaks apart In myriad shreds of time, Leaving a lonely heart, Weaving a lonely rhyme.   Unconscious stars commune In vain with senseless suns, Each winging its lone tune 'In time' — sad, lonesome puns.   O Love, pour forth your grace And make our cracked tones whole; At last, unveil your face, And fold us to your soul. Page-45

Miracle   Your streams of sweet compassion flow Into this desert's parched, still pain; Its secret seed-flames burst aglow,  And soon, a field of golden grain   Wakes dancing in the quiet breeze Of your white love and light and power; Dry sorrow's sands lie drunk with peace,  Pain's cacti come to joyous flower. Page-18

O Dire Magician   O dire Magician, how long will you keep This spirit pegged in rough-hewn stone or tree, Witch-wisdoms jeering at its agony And uncouth passions stalking it in sleep? — Are you then deaf? Do you not hear it weep Within dark rocks, and struggling to be free? The wood imps titter and tease in mockery... Release it, Lord, unweave the midnight deep.   Or is this then your vaunted magic show, Or is some sacred Mystery being played? — 'The isle is full of voices', in the air Whispers of an unearthly beauty flow, And hidden meanings sweet and secrets rare Await the passing of the masquerade. Page-128

The Thorns   The rose is sleeping amid the thorns, The thorns are preening points, Ready to meet the Gatherer An old world-law anoints.   Foul and fair within the air Give no sure sunlight clue; Feign to be the arbiter, And they will punish you.   Feign to be the Chosen One, — Caught in the traps they lay, You'll see the evil mockeries, And wither on the way.   Only Love's hands may take and wake, As ready for the thorn. ... — But will the beauty compensate The blood, the flesh that's torn? Page-126