The Equinox (Volume I, Number II)

202 THE EQUINOX II The secret of the House of Set. As a poor pilgrim clambering Toils on the slopes, so I to get Halidom for my lord the King. Faintly and feebly murmuring I uttered the mysterious runes, And bade my body’s sleekness sing Silky, satanic, subtle tunes. Was he not holy? Milk of moons Were not so pallid as his cheek, And roses of a million Junes His mouth left livid. So I seek In all God’s seas a tiny creek Wherein to moor my shallop. Nay! He is a mountain, chill with bleak Stark winds of innocence astray! The fearful passion sweeps me away. So with a passionate thrill of fear I creep—like shadows across Day! Like Winter on the expended year !— From those cold feet, a frozen meer, To those cold knees, a lost lagoon, To that wild woodland, strangely near To the lone tower that tops the moon !