The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse

ALEISTER CROWLEY ‘Though oft-time its most holy fre Lacks oil, whene’er my own Desire Before desire has dwindled, see the thin web binding me With thirteen cords of nity * Toward the calm centre of the sea, (O thou supernal mother !*) ‘The triple light my path divides ‘To twain and fifty sudden sides* Each perfect as each other. Now backwards, inwards still my mind Mast track the intangible and blind, ‘And seeking, shall securely find Hidden in secret places Fresh feasts for every soul that strives, New life for many mystic lives, ‘And strange new forms and faces. ‘My mind still searches, and attains By many days and many pains To That which Is and Was and reigns ‘Shadowed in four and ten ;# ‘And loses self in sacred lands, And cries and quickens, and understands Beyond the first Amens