Collected Works (Vol. III)

40 WHY JESUS WEPT And poet over-man! - To thee, To thee I owe transfiguration, peace, The wide dominion of the wan Abyss of air. I can look out and see Beyond the stars, black seas Wherein no star may swim, Thence, far beyond the vast revolving spheres Dark, idle, grim, . Full of black joys and shadowy unspoken fears, Whercin I am master. There is no place for tears. Cold adamant disaster Is lord there, and I overlord. So flits out, like a sword Flashed through a duellist’s live heart, My thought ; in all the abodes of sense, The shrines of love and art, The adytum of omnipotence, I am supreme, through thee, sweet Angela ! For all the beauties of the universe, The glories hidden in the flower’s cup, All, all that wakes the soul to worship, verse, Ripe verse, all wines, all dreams that the soft God lifts up: All these are eidola, Mere phantom will 0’ the wisps, thy love the real ! There is no more ideal lor me 3 romance hath shot its bolt; The badger Jesus skulketh in his holt, Whence let no dog dare draw him; let him skulk ! All is an empty broken hulk Floating on waters of derision, Save for the sole true vision, Angela, star in chaos! Breathe, breathe deep! Dear heart of gold, beat slowly in suft sleep ! Ifer lover watches over Angela. Angela! O thou wondrous woman, Thou chaste pale goddess blooded to the human, Artemis rosy like Hippolyta !? Ay, my lord, were it true, your liar’s lore, (Oh blasphemy !) were my young love an whore, 1 Possibly the Hippolyta in ‘‘ Midsummer Night’s Dream.” An hag of sixty ; I were greater so. He who doth know And fears and hates, Is not as he who cares not, but creates A royal crown from an old bonnet string, A maiden from a strumpet: that is to be like God, Who from all matter, Crusts shed off putrefaction, shakes a wing And flies; bids flowers spring from the dull black sod, Is not the scientist to shatter Beauty by dint of microscope, But wakes a wider hope And turns all to the beautiful ; so I. Angela, wake! The midnight hour is nigh :— Let us renew the vows of love! appease These amorous longings with grave ecstasies, The holy act of uttermost communion, The sacrament of life! Awake, awake ! There is a secret in our subtle union That masters the grey snake. Ay! let him lurk! The Tree of Knowledge we Have fed our fill of; this is Eden still. Awake, O Love ! and let me drink my fill Of thee—and thou of me! [ANGELA wakes, chaos, from the husks of ANGELA. Ah, Percy, bend you over me! Bend deep! Kiss my own eyelids out of tender sleep Into exasperate love! Bend close] Fill me, thy golden rose, With dew of thy dear kisses ! Str PERCY. Ay, again ! Love, love, these raptures are like springtide rain Nestling among green leaves. ANGELA. The Lady of Love weaves Fresh nets of gossamer for thee and me. O take not back thy lips, even to sing!