Oracles

I72 THE HILLS For stronger control is than urging, And mightier the heart of the sea Than her waves deep-merging and striving and surging That deem they are free. In spirit I stand on the mountain, My soul into God’s withdrawn And look to the East like a fountain That shoots up the spray of the dawn. And the life of the mountain swims through me (So the song of a thrush in me thrills) And the dawn speaks to me, of old for it knew me The soul of the hills. I stand on the mountain in wonder As the splendour springs up in the East, As the cloud banks are rended asunder, And the wings of the Night are released. As in travail a maiden demented, Afraid of the deed she hath done, By no man lamented, springs up the sweet-scented Pale flower of the sun. So change not the heights and the hollows ; The hollows are one with the heights In that pallid grave dawn of Apollo’s Confusion of shadows and lights. Unreal save to sense that can sense her That maiden of sunrise refills The air’s grey censer with perfumes intenser The higher the hills.