180 THE SWORD OF SONG
Destroying passion, feeling, thought, 630
The very practice you have sought
Unconscious, when you work the best.
I carry on one step firm-pressed
Further than you the path, and you
For all my trouble, comment : “ True! 635
“ Auto-hypnosis. Very quaint!”
No one supposes me a Saint—*
Some Saints to wrath would be inclined
With such a provocation pecked !
But I remember and reflect , 640
That anger makes a person blind,
And my own “ Chittam” I’d neglect.
Besides, it’s you, and you, I find,
Are but a mode of my own mind.
Objectivity of But then you argue, and with sense ; 645
universe not ‘‘T have this worthy evidence
discussed.
That things are real, since I cease
The painter’s ecstasy of peace,
And find them all unchanged.” To-day
I cannot brush that doubt away ; 650
It leads to tedious argument
Uncertain, in the best event :
Unless, indeed, I should invoke
The fourth dimension, clear the smoke
Psychology still leaves. This question G55
Needs a more adequate digestion.
Yet I may answer that the universe
Of meditation suffers less
From tuime’s insufferable stress
Than that ot matter. On, thou puny verse ! 660
Weak tide of rhyme! Another argument
Will block the railway train of blague you meant
To run me over with. ‘This world
Or that? We'll keep the question furled.
~rveferability of But, surely, (let me corner you !)
‘on- You wish the painter-mood were true! G66
To leave the hateful world, and see
Perish the whole Academy ;
So you remain for ever sated,
On your own picture concentrated ! 670