The Soul of Osiris

THE HOLY OF HOLIES. 125 A LITANY. HE ghosts of abject days flit by ; The bloated goblins of the past ; Dim ghouls in soulless apathy ; Fates imminent, and dooms aghast ! O Mother Mout, O Mother Night, Give me the Sun of Life and Light ! The shadows of my hopes devoured, The crown of my intent cast down, The hate that shone, the love that lowered, Make up God’s universal frown. O Lord, O Hormakhou, display The rosy earnest of the day ! The mighty pomp of desolate Dead kings, a pageant, moves along ; Dead queens unite in desperate, Unsatisfied, unholy song. O Khephra, manifest in flesh, Arise, create the world afresh ! The silence of my heart is one With memory’s insatiate night ; T