VIII
So presently, most solemnly and slowly,
Our fingers touched and caught ; our lipsreached forth
And with a conscious purpose smote their holy
Lives into one, and loosed their common wrath.
Unto the ends of our dead universe
Their frenzy rolled; henceforth no prince or power
Should lift the sterile strength of that one curse
Even to bring one thought to birth one hour.
For now we knew; ” it is a lonely thing
To sit supreme upon the single throne; ”
But being come thus far, goes glittering:
" It is a lovely thing to be alone! ”
Silence! Beware to speak the fatal word
That might inweave our two-ply with a third !
IX
Wherefore again in sexless sanctity
The mighty lingam rears its stilled sublime;
The mighty yoni spreads its chastity
Against the assaulting gods of space and time.
Rather be Phoedra than Semiramis |
I will deny you, though you doom to dare
To abdicate, and risk the spirit kiss
In the embraces of the wanton air.
Why should we cast our crowns to gods unborn ?
Why yield our bleeding garlands till the hour
When to ourselves we seem a shame and scorn
And seek some craft to span a statelier power?
Not for a while evoke that sombre spell !
The present still exceeds the possible.