118 
THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
Power, power, and power !  O single sacrifice 
 On thine own altar :  let thy savour steam 
Up, through the domes of broken Paradise ; 
 Up, by Euphrates’ unimagined stream ; 
Up, by strange river and mysterious lawn 
To some impossible diadem of dawn ! 
 
So the mere orderly ruling of events 
 Shall change and blossom to a finer flower 
Until it serve to worlds and elements 
 For aspiration in the nobler hour— 
Not mere repression, but the hope and crown 
Of fallen hierarchies no more cast down. 
 
O misery of triple love and grief 
 And hope !  O joy of hatred and despair 
And happiness !  The little hour is brief, 
 And the lithe fingers soothe the listless hair 
Less, and the kisses swoon to tenderer sighs 
And little sobs of sleeping ecstasies. 
 
No !  for the envy of the infinite 
 Crushes the juice from out the poppy’s stem, 
And brown-stained fingers wring the petals white, 
 And weary lips seek lotus-life in them 
Vainly :  the lotus burns above the tomb— 
Yea, but in thought’s unfathomable womb ! 
 
For spiritual life and love and light 
 Climb the swayed ladder of our various fate