192
THE EQUINOX
Boy, as you love me, I charge you to fold
Pipe over pipe into gardens of gold
Such as a god may be glad to behold.
Seated on high in the zons of doom,
Sucked as a seed to the infinite womb,
Sealed is my soul in the sheath of its tomb.
Boy, as you love me, I charge you to mould
Pipe after pipe, till the heavens are rolled
Back and are lost as a tale that is told!
III
Silence and darkness are weaving a web
Broidered with Nothing at uttermost ebb :—
Cover, oh cover the shaming of Seb!
Fling the wide veil, O Nuit, on the shame |—
Shame from the Knowledge and unto the Name—
Hide it, O hide it, in flowers of flame!
Now in the balance of infinite things
Stirs not a feather ; the universe swings
Poised on the stealth of ineffable wings.
Surely the sable Osirian bird
Sole in the zether shall utter the Word
Now that its crying can never be heard!