Oracles

I24 ANIMA LUNAE The cedar’s branching hair, The comet’s glory, and the woman’s smile, To strange devices otherwise not heard Without the lute’s own word. So on the soul of Zôhra grew A fashioned orb of fiery dew : Yet (as cool water on a leaf) It touched his spirit not with grief, Although its name was sorrow. “ O for a name to borrow ” (He mused) “ some semblance for this subtle sense Of new experience ! For on my heart, untouched, my mind not used To any metre mused, Save the one tranquil and continuous rhyme Of joy exceeding time, Here the joy changes, but abides for ever, Here on the shining river Where the dusk gathers, and tall trees begin To wrap the shallop in, Sweet shade not cast of sun or moon or star, But of some light afar Softer and sweeter than all these—what light Burns past the wondrous night Of yonder crags ?—what riven chasm hides In those mysterious sides ? Somewhere this stream must leap Down vales divinely steep Into some vain unprofitable deep ! ”