With Thee a moment! then what dreams have play!

Traditions of eternal toil arise, Search for the high, austere and lonely way, Where Brahma treads through the eternities.

Ah, in the soul what memories arise!

And with what yearning inexpressible, Rising from long forgetfulness I turn To Thee, invisible, unrumoured, still: White for Thy whiteness all desires burn!

Ah, with what longing once again I turn!

--August 15, 1893

Deep Sleep

Heart-hidden from the outer things I rose, The spirit woke anew in nightly birth Into the vastness where forever glows The star-soul of the earth.

There all alone in primal ecstasy, Within her depths where revels never tire, The olden Beauty shines; each thought of me Is veined through with its fire.

And all my thoughts are throngs of living souls; They breath in me, heart unto heart allied With joy undimmed, though when the morning tolls The planets may divide.

--September 15, 1893

Day

In day from some t.i.tanic past it seems As if a thread divine of memory runs; Born ere the Mighty One began his dreams, Or yet were stars and suns.

But here an iron will has fixed the bars; Forgetfulness falls on earth's myriad races, No image of the proud and morning stars Looks at us from their faces.

Yet yearning still to reach to those dim heights, Each dream remembered is a burning-gla.s.s, Where through to darkness from the light of lights Its rays in splendour pa.s.s.

--September 15, 1893

To A Poet

Oh, be not led away.

Lured by the colour of the sun-rich day.

The gay romances of song Unto the spirit-life doth not belong.

Though far-between the hours In which the Master of Angelic Powers Lightens the dusk within The Holy of Holies; be it thine to win Rare vistas of white light, Half-parted lips, through which the Infinite Murmurs her ancient story; Hearkening to whom the wandering planets h.o.a.ry Waken primeval fires, With deeper rapture in celestial choirs Breathe, and with fleeter motion Wheel in their orbits through the surgeless ocean.

So, hearken thou like these, Intent on her, mounting by slow degrees, Until thy song's elation Echoes her mult.i.tudinous meditation.

--November 15, 1893

The Place of Rest

--The soul is its own witness and its own refuge.

Unto the deep the deep heart goes.

It lays its sadness nigh the breast: Only the mighty mother knows The wounds that quiver unconfessed.

It seeks a deeper silence still; It folds itself around with peace, Where thoughts alike of good or ill In quietness unfostered, cease.

It feels in the unwounding vast For comfort for its hopes and fears: The mighty mother bows at last; She listens to her children's tears.

Where the last anguish deepens--there-- The fire of beauty smites through pain, A glory moves amid despair, The Mother takes her child again.

--December 15, 1893

Comfort

Dark head by the fireside brooding, Sad upon your ears Whirlwinds of the earth intruding Sound in wrath and tears:

Tender-hearted, in your lonely Sorrow I would fain Comfort you, and say that only G.o.ds could feel such pain.

Only spirits know such longing For the far away; And the fiery fancies thronging Rise not out of clay.

Keep the secret sense celestial Of the starry birth; Though about you call the b.e.s.t.i.a.l Voices of the earth.

If a thousand ages since Hurled us from the throne: Then a thousand ages wins Back again our own.

Sad one, dry away your tears: Sceptred you shall rise, Equal mid the crystal spheres With seraphs kingly wise.

--February, 1894