THE HOLY OF HOLIES. 
113 
So patient, in the breathless strife ; 
So silent, under scourge and knife ; 
 So tranquil, in the surge of things ; 
I bring them from the well of Life, 
 Love, from celestial water-springs ! 
 
From the shrill fountain-head of God 
I draw out water with the rod 
 Made luminous with light of power. 
I seal each æon’s period, 
 And wait the moment and the hour. 
 
Aloof, alone, unloved, I stand 
With love and worship in my hand. 
 I commune with the Gods :  I wait 
Their summons, and I fire the brand. 
 I speak their Word :  and there is Fate. 
 
I know no happiness, no pain, 
No swift emotion, no disdain, 
 No pity :  but the boundless light 
Of the Eternal Love, unslain, 
 Flows through me to redeem the night. 
 
Mine is a sad-slow life :  but I, 
I would not gain release, and die 
 A moment ere my task be done. 
To falter now were treachery— 
 I should not dare to greet the sun !