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