Whose godhead duly knows 
Only the one wind of the utmost heaven 
Through hyacinthine deeps 
Down from the sapphirine steeps 
And azure abyss that blows ; 
Only the one sun on the steppéd snows ; 
Only the one star of the sister seven ; 
Only the one moon in the orchard close 
In the one hour that unto love is given 
Of all the hours of bliss ; 
Only the one joy in a world of woes ; 
Only the one spark in the storm-cloud riven ; 
Only the one shaft through the rose-dawn driven, 
Thy shaft, Eros ! 
Not as Apollo or as Artemis 
Loosing gray death from golden thong 
To slay the poet in a song, 
The lover in a kiss ; 
But to divide the inmost marrow 
With that ensanguine arrow ; 
But to unite each bleeding part 
Of that most universal heart ; 
Leaving us slaves, and kings ; 
Bound, and with eagle’s wings ; 
One soul, comprising all that may be thought, 
One soul, conscious of nought. 
 
 
 
2