THE EQUINOX
VIII
INSPIRATION
TuE winged globe that holds the stars enchained,
The secret, silver pools of the lost desires—
These be thy fires, thy fires!
O lone Osiris in thy wintry tomb
Of doom
O lonely one, so utterly silent there,
Too weary for despair—
Yea, I have found thee too, thee too,
And round thee all the blue
Of the skies is blackened ; waned
The light of thine eyes to the dusk.
The husk, the husk
Of all dead dreams, dead dreams
Is come upon thee;
Dust and ash and musk, and musk, and musk—
All these are on thee. . . .
I bear a chalice of red-tipped lilies under the moon.
Bestrewn
The dim pathway of delight
With night,
And her dim, pale stars that swoon
In the circle of the skies.
Thine eyes,
O radiant god, are waning, and there dies
154