Rosa Mundi

— 7 — Of myriad fools provoke the Crowned-with-Night Hidden beyond sound and sight In the mystery of His own high essence ? Lo, Rose of all the gardens of the world, Did thy most sacred presence Not fill the Real, then this voice were whirled Away in the wind of its own folly, thrown Into forgotten places and unknown. So I sing on ! Sister and wife, dear wife, Light of my love and lady of my life, Answer if thou canst from the unsullied place, Unveiling for one star-wink thy bright face ! Did we leave then, once cognisant, Time for some Fear to implant His poison ? Did we hesitate ? Leave but one little chance to Fate ? For one swift second did we wait ? There is no need to answer : God is God, A jealous God and evil ; with His rod He smiteth fair and foul, and with His sword Divideth tiniest atoms of intangible time, That men may know he is the Lord. Then, with that sharp division, Did He divide our wit sublime ? Our knowledge bring to nought ? We had no need of thought. We brought His malice in derision.