Your Word   Your Word comes singing to my soul And passes over night's silent sea; I cannot keep it or control Or capture all it says to me.   But the deep caves resound with light, The terraces of being flame, And everywhere from depth to height Reverberates your beauteous Name.   The earth a-tremble to the core Bursts open its vast granite hold, Releasing through its broken floor Strange sacred fountains flowing gold. Page-107

Confessional   Today I went to the confessional Of my own heart; it can't forgive, it says, This injury, the sharp unquiet phase Of weak life I have brought; it cannot lull Remembrance, cannot offer magical Ablution for a sin which keeps ablaze Its consciousness of petty, perverse ways, Which goads the gnawing worm within the skull.   What have I done? Despite this mock regret, The innocence of the wild earth-desire Breaks through this last confession, conquering strife: The heart which still refuses to forget Still feels aright; no sacrificial fire Could purify the deed that builds its life. Page-41

Of Pomps   Lord God, we've had enough Of pomps and pageants old, And all the gilded stuff That's passed off as Your gold —   The flight of airy brains That spin out dreams on dreams, Where not a thought restrains Pink passion's gushing streams.   How long shall we endure This masquerading show? Big words, rich words that pour In senseless, rhymeless flow,   Without the least control Of inward powers of light, As though there were no soul Behind what men must write. Page-157

The Gopi   I go to fetch the water From the Yamuna rill; I know you will be there, Love, I have two pots to fill:   The one is for my mother-in-law, Of whom I stand in trembling awe; That is the pot upon my head, May it sink to the river-bed!   The other I in secret bring Most quietly to You, my King;  The pitcher of my heart to fill With the sweet waters of your Will. Page-29

Moon-flower (Consecration)   In the dark hid grots the moon-seed dreams, And secretly unfolds to bloom, Feeding upon the purple streams And blood-red saps of earth and doom.   Gathering and transmuting all To one immaculate flame-white, It flowers beneath your loved foot-fall, The moon-flower of the heart's delight.   Page-30

By Day and Night   You did not come by day or night: My yearning heart's deep agony Grew tensed into a flame of light That burnt me inly, silently. ...   Yet day and night, Love, You were there, Holding me in your close caress; Only my soul lay unaware And sorrowed in her loneliness.   Yes, day and night your white love kept Its shining vigil over me,  Nourished and warmed me while I slept Within your world-womb's mystery.   But now that I am born again Of your pure mystic body's clay, Your love-seal's on my lonely pain, My heart in yours all night and day. Page-5

Streamlets   Lord, how bright the waters flow, Shimmering silver, sparkling gold, Let Your mercy now bestow A power within the heart to hold   Some streamlets of that ecstasy Which cleans the being through and through, And with its inmost light sets free My soul to swiftly come to You. Page-167

Teshtar   How white you shine, how steadfast, sure, O brightest star of the sky; Star of the Prophet, — still and pure, Above the night world's lie;   Above the waters, restless, strange, Above the weltering mood Of dark dream-surges, Time and change, And soul's inquietude.   O star most perfect, bring to me The spirit's calm delight; Poised over earth's pain and ecstasy, Make beautiful my night. Page-22

Beyond the Veils   Beyond the beauteous veils of dew, Open your eyes, adream, aswoon, Where new translucencies move through The secret spaces of the moon.   Beyond the Silence's covering, The unborn purities await, — Each folded in its angel-wing, — Dawn-bugles from the gates of Fate.   The blue vaults of the heavens divide, Dream spirits pass in, one by one, Earth-radiances arise and glide, Into the kingdoms of the Sun.   But you must pass still far beyond, Above the terraced truths, and free Your tranced soul from its last dream-bond Into unringed Eternity. Page-34

Night of Soul   No rosary threaded with flower and pearl Revolves in my fingers of hunger and glut: My heart is as black as a gipsy-girl With her mouth tight shut.   The places of earth are as dark as a sin, And dark, furrow-dark is the song of the sea; My thought's swooning steps are beating within A dead litany.   The freedom of winds stings the trees' repose, Till leaf-life is blackened with poison and blight; My lips are sick-pale with the oozing which flows From the breast of the night.   Unholy, the hollowing, curving white hands, Which, empty of gifts, never burn down and die; Which put out the sacrifice-fire,