The Soul of Osiris

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