AN ANSWER.

The blind man stirreth sometime in his death,
And the chaste woman fears lest he take fire
For that straight road that all space compasseth:
Perchance his death fulfilleth some desire

The Universal Soul we call Life hath,
The All - Pervading Spirit, mutable
As breeze that shivers on the sea, whose path
Is blotted out in times' next miracle.

What if Life Ultimate desireth most,
The Sum of Being, to be incarnate
Within our bodies an eternal ghost,
Each woman's travail as it's entrance gate.

To walk within our hands and feet, to pass,
To enter in, pervade, experience,
Descending as the dew upon the grass
Learn, suffer, and rejoice, and die then pass hence.

A naked warrior shoulder washed in blood,
A scribe slow copying across a scroll,
A great gull fishing on a spring-tide's flood,
A young God drinking old wine from a bowl.

Lovers made one in the last ecstacy,
A haggard wasted stricken courtesan,
A girl's white body seven days drowned at sea,
A black goat dancing with the great God Pan.

The sun creating and the flower create,
A starving child, the long repression
Of truth deep drowned in lies, all love or hate
But hear for Life to find expression.

The roar of streets, the quiet of the hills,
The pleasant shouting of a little town,
Broods over all, -the scratching office quills,-
Deviseth colours for a poet's crown.

White dreams and scarlet, gold and mist and fire,
All things that are exist for it alone
In whom all being is, whose name Desire,
Whose thought illumineth a God, a stone.

The in-carnation of infinity,
Evil and good those names that children spell
Pass as a dawn-bird passeth on the sea...
The soul in heaven as the soul in hell.