The Soul of Osiris

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 !