The Soul of Osiris

64 THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. Loved, and no sin done ! Ay, the world shall see The quest is first—a love less terrible. Yet, as I ride toward the edge of snow That cuts the blue, I think. For even so Comes reason to me : “ Oh, return, return ! What folly is it for two souls to burn With hell’s own fire ! What is this quest of woe ? What is the end ? Consider and discern ! ” Banish the thought ! My working reason still Is the rebellious vassal to my will. Because I will it. That is God’s own mind. I cast all thought and prudence to the wind : On, to the quest ! The cursed parrot hill Mocks on, on, on ! The thought is left behind. Night came upon me thus—a wizard hand Grasping with silence the reluctant land. Through night I clomb—behind me grew the light Reflected in the portal of the night. I reached the crest at dawn—pallid I stand Uncomprehending of the sudden sight. The river and the bridge ! The river flows, Tears of young orphans for its limpid woes. The red bridge quivers—how my spirit starts, Its seeming glory built of widows’ hearts ! And yet I could disdain it—heaven knows I had no dear ones for their counterparts.