The Equinox (Volume I, Number X)

ROSA IGNOTA She cried: “I bring you wonder from the skies, And star-lit lilies, and pale, purple roses; Roses; still roses ; still the intoxication Of the scent of the world; the virgin still unborn To this riot of life, this sensuous crash of things, This fulsome fever fretting out her life.” So! It is said! No more may I unveil The mystery! The way is hidden from me. I know not; but the aching dream still stays, Burning me up to death; the cool, strong death, Even death I shall slay in the cool, strong colonnades: I shall bear the Rose of life to the heart of death. And death shall lead me back to the shadowy river, The murmuring waters shall mock me then no more. I shall know, and knowing I shall strive again, Shall ever strive until the petals fall! There is no way for me, my darling, now, Save one ; the hour is passed, and I have chosen. I have chosen, and the mellow river calls Insistently; the darkness grows more deep, And night more luminous, yielding me her heart. For I have chosen: it is over now. We are one for ever, O my secret Rose, Pale phantom of the vastest god of rest, His wandering ghost, obsessed by space and time, Set free, a torment to the rolling worlds. And Life, a foe for ever more of Time Springs still, the ghost of No Thing. Oh, sweet hour 183