"The fate of the man-child, The meaning of man; Known fruit of the unknown; Dædalian plan; Out of sleeping a waking, Out of waking a sleep; Life death overtaking ; "Erect as a sunbeam, In beautiful motion The thrush plies his wings; Kind leaves of his covert, Your silence he sings. "The waves, unashamed, Firmly draw, firmly drive, "Sea, earth, air, sound, silence, One deity stirred, Accompany still; Night veileth the morning, "The babe by its mother Lies bathed in joy; Glide its hours uncounted, The sun is its toy; Without cloud, in its eyes; And the sum of the world "But man crouches and blushes, Absconds and conceals; He creepeth and peepeth, Jealous glancing around, "Out spoke the great mother, Beholding his fear; At the sound of her accents Cold shuddered the sphere: 'Who has drugged my boy's cup? Who has mixed my boy's bread? Who, with sadness and madness, Has turned my child's head?'" I heard a poet answer 66 Aloud and cheerfully, "Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges Are pleasant songs to me. Deep love lieth under These pictures of time; They fade in the light of Their meaning sublime. "The fiend that man harries Can't trance him again, Which his eyes seek in vain. "To vision profounder, At no goal will arrive ; The heavens that now draw him With sweetness untold, "Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; Thy sight is growing blear; Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, Her muddy eyes to clear! The old Sphinx bit her thick lip, Said, "Who taught thee me to name? I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow, "Thou art the unanswered question; Couldst see thy proper eye, Alway it asketh, asketh; And each answer is a lie. So take thy quest through nature, It through thousand natures ply: Ask on, thou clothed eternity; Time is the false reply." Uprose the merry Sphinx, And crouched no more in stone; She melted into purple cloud, She silvered in the moon ; She spired into a yellow flame; Thorough a thousand voices |