Jephthah and Other Mysteries

190 MYSTERIES: LOVE. | Kjobnhavn, January, ’97. FEEL thee shudder, clinging to my arm, Before the battlements of the salt sea,_: Black billows tipped with phosphorescent light, Towering from where we stand to yonder shore That is no earthly shore, but guards the coast Of that which is from that which is to be; Wherefore it kindles no evasive fire Nor blazes through the night, but lies forgotten Gray in the twilight; never a star is out To light the broad horizon ; only here Behind us cluster lamps, and busy sounds Of men proclaim a city; but to us They are not here; for we, because we love, Are not of earth, but, as the immortals, stand With eyes immutable; our souls are fed On a strange new nepenthe from the cup Of the vast firmament. Nor do we dream, Nor think we aught of the transient world, But are absorbed in our own deity: And our clear eyes reflect—who dares to gaze Shall see and die—the changeless empyréan Eternity, the concentrated void