The Winged Beetle

ROSA COELI 15 Laughing upon the laughing lake below, Expectant of some strange experience Worth all the woes of sense, Some drop of nectar worth a world of wine, Some grace of One divine Worth more than all life’s grace, and more than life intense. Was there a wonder if the silken boy Found her a-playing on the bluebell marge And drank from golden vats the wine of joy ; Hot, eager, overcoming in her breath, As she would draw him to those large And firm white breasts and mix her liquid life With his in pagan strife ? Or with a grace like God, a stealth like love, Pour on him from above Wine from the purple vats of death ? Nay ! ’tis no wonder—shall they wonder then, These bat-eyed newspaper-besotted men, If thou and I have found the Elixir rare That giveth Life to those whoso drinketh it, The Stone beyond compare, The harmony of the Circle and the Square, All that surpasseth mortal wit Even to imagine ? we have found it, Rose, Rose of the Stars, Rose of the utmost snows ! Where ? Where Love knows.