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THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
Nature is one with my distress. 
 The flowers are dull, the stars are pale. 
I am the Soul of Nothingness. 
 I cannot lift the golden veil. 
O Mother Isis, let thine eyes 
Behold my grief, and sympathise ! 
 
I cannot round the perfect wheel, 
 Attain not to the fuller end. 
In part I love, in part I feel, 
 Know, worship, will, and comprehend. 
O Mother Nephthys, fill me up 
Thine own perfection’s deadly cup ! 
 
My aspiration quails within me ; 
 “ My heart is fixed,” in vain I cry ; 
The little loves and whispers win me : 
 “ Eli, lama sabacthani ! ” 
O Chomse, moon-god, grant thy boon, 
The silver pathway of the moon ! 
 
Beyond the Glory of the Dawn, 
 Beyond the Splendour of the Sun, 
Thy secret Spirit is withdrawn, 
 The plumes of the Concealéd One. 
Amoun !  upon the Cross I cry, 
I am Osiris, even I ! 
 
O Thou !  the All, the many-named, 
 The One in many manifest !