In Blind Dark   How can we see who have no vision pure To look behind the earth's and body's veil? Will the fire-form prepared within assure Duration of that mould of flesh so frail?   A thousand murmurs darken over the cold Still clay; and whispering doubts creep through the air; Do we forget the promise given of old? Why do we tremble so, deny, despair?   The surging darkness from the lairs of night Blinds all our wits; the black stone mind of fear Has neither loving trust nor any sight, And mud-blocked, buzzing loud, the ear cannot hear.   What do we do? We sacrifice to doom Our faith, our love — our living heart en

Liberation   A hundred sweet tunes throng the heart One moment, then as fast depart: Dark silence surges over the soul, And thoughts and feelings swiftly roll Up into one fire-knot, all pure, And plunge down to the being's core, Lost in its strange black unlit seas, Plumbing their age-held mysteries. The hidden caves its power unlocks: Blue flutings issue from the rocks Of Night; the Fire liberates All prisoned angels, breaks the gates.   — The blind trance passes, the waters part, New melodies well in the heart. Page-115

Across the River   Shall we go across the river? Ah, this side or the other side, What does it matter? here, hereafter? Where do the friends of God abide?   Vertical flows the river of light Straight down to midnight caverns dark, And all the souls go down the flow, Both blazing sun and glow-worm spark.   All go down to the sunless deeps, The waters of stupendous night, Folding within the magic threads That weave back to the primal height.   They cross, re-cross, arise and sink, And lost and found still seek and hide; The wheel moves round, and everywhere, Here too, the friends of God abide. Page-147

When Dreams Unfold...   When the long folded dreams unfold, We know and love before we meet: Because earth's shores are dark burnt gold I have met You at the sunset feet;   White waters running from the wake Of rising suns in endless stream, I have drunk, and known your pureness slake Me to the breaking of the dream...   Upon dark leaves each night is laid The tender clearness of the dew; When morning splendour, unafraid, Takes it, then I'll be meeting You.   Love, just because your Beauty runs Wild over muddy wastes and sands, I press the glory of your suns So close with eager burning hands.   And

Offering   Priestess, what will you sacrifice? The altar of the dawn's afire, The gods stoop from their paradise To taste the ash of your desire.   What can you offer save a dream? This body is but dust of earth, And life's a purple passion-stream, And mind a moon of airy birth.   Within the Fire offer fire, Your silent heart's pure lonely flame;  What have you lovelier or higher To burn before his beauteous Name?   O priestess-soul, before He call, The Sun-God of the mystic dance, Gather your strength and lay your all Upon the dawn's red altar-trance.   Then He, the Lord of sacrifice Will open his gold-gates

To a "Modern" Poet   Consider, friend, your strange new art: The giddy babel, the words' dark pall; Consider the towering tragic wall You build between a heart and heart.   Clever, cunning, you close the doors, And shut a mad beast in the den; The tongues of flame, sun-speech of men, You change to grovelling moans and roars.   Uncogent babbling, whim absurd, With mockery your pages fill; The watching soul has but one will; To hear the one Eternal Word:   When through each image, symbol, sound, Silence and speech weave endlessly A faultless work of filigree, The patterns of a Truth profound. Page-159

Death   I am become as nothing, A hollow pit, A vacancy of sorrow, Unlifed, unlit; A ghost of empty silence, Afloat in dream, Through starless wastes of darkness, Across night's stream; Over voids of blank unseeing, Undwelt of God; A numb grey pain of being, A crumbled clod...   Why have You gone and left me Bereft of grace, Within this soundless, senseless Cold tomb of space?   — Yet with sweet memories of Your Love and light, Of Beauty now withdrawn from My stained dimmed sight; Of deep warm Joy overflooding Each cell with song, Of Life-founts rippling over In rapturous throng — P

Yearning   Evening stars and morning suns, And all the callous, vagrant runs Of empty days that cross the sea Of dark, unhallowed memory.. . Day in, day out, the fiend red sands Run through death's steely, glassy hands; And passion's waters break and roar, Tide in, tide out, upon thought's shore.   And Beauty that awakes to kiss The soul, but falls in pain's abyss; Losing all meaning in earth's mesh, All sanctity within the flesh.   When will You cut the devil-masks And give us all the spirit asks; Beyond Time's tainted sands and seas, Waft us to pristine purities? Page-46

The Waiting   Now that the rivers have begun to flow and the falls of gold from on high, The centre of the sun begins to unseal; We who have waited long begin to feel the breath of Your spirit, we begin to know the hour of the Descent is nigh.   No delusion this? Ah, Lord, do not delude us; say, is the hope too quick, the bliss too green to drink ungolden, untouched of the sun? Delay?... Pause? think?... The waiting is agony again. O globe of silent pain, bubble of the earth-foam, burst; win to free faith, a new birth; set free the will of the Word within that incarnates God on earth. Page-91

The Rune   There is a memory that has no tune, No shape for sense or ear or eye, A lonely thing, an age-old rune, Carved on the blue rocks of the sky.   When all our murmuring memories pass, Drifting across the seas of time, Winds of earth-loves among the grass, Adream with vibrant song and rhyme;   Within the Silence shall unfold The magic of the runic scroll, The characters of sun-burnt gold, Chiselled in fire upon the soul. Page-59