The Equinox (Volume I, Number IX)

THE EQUINOX VIII INSPIRATION TuE winged globe that holds the stars enchained, The secret, silver pools of the lost desires— These be thy fires, thy fires! O lone Osiris in thy wintry tomb Of doom O lonely one, so utterly silent there, Too weary for despair— Yea, I have found thee too, thee too, And round thee all the blue Of the skies is blackened ; waned The light of thine eyes to the dusk. The husk, the husk Of all dead dreams, dead dreams Is come upon thee; Dust and ash and musk, and musk, and musk— All these are on thee. . . . I bear a chalice of red-tipped lilies under the moon. Bestrewn The dim pathway of delight With night, And her dim, pale stars that swoon In the circle of the skies. Thine eyes, O radiant god, are waning, and there dies 154