(S 1) |
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80 |
Then dawned a greater seeking, broadened sky, |
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A journey under wings of brooding Force. |
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(S 2) |
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First came the kingdom of the morning star: |
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A twilight beauty trembled under its spear |
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And the throb of promise of a wider Life. |
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(S 3) |
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85 |
Then slowly rose a great and doubting sun |
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And in its light she made of self a world. |
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(S 4) |
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A spirit was there that sought for its own deep self, |
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Yet was content with fragments pushed in front |
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And parts of living that belied the whole |
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90 |
But, pieced together, might one day be true. |
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(S 5) |
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Yet something seemed to be achieved at last. |
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(S 6) |
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A growing volume of the will-to-be, |
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A text of living and a graph of force, |
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A script of acts, a song of conscious forms |
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95 |
Burdened with meanings fugitive from thought’s grasp |
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And crowded with undertones of life’s rhythmic cry, |
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Could write itself on the hearts of living things. |
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(S 7) |
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In an outbreak of the might of secret Spirit, |
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In Life and Matter’s answer of delight, |
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100 |
Some face of deathless beauty could be caught |
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That gave immortality to a moment’s joy, |
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Some word that could incarnate highest Truth |
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Leaped out from a chance tension of the soul, |
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Some hue of the Absolute could fall on life, |
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105 |
Some glory of knowledge and intuitive sight, |
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Some passion of the rapturous heart of Love. |
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(S 8) |
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A hierophant of the bodiless Secrecy |
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Interned in an unseen spiritual sheath, |
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The Will that pushes sense beyond its scope |
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110 |
To feel the light and joy intangible, |
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Half found its way into the Ineffable’s peace, |
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Half captured a sealed sweetness of desire |
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That yearned from a bosom of mysterious Bliss, |
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Half manifested veiled Reality. |
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(S 9) |
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115 |
A soul not wrapped into its cloak of mind |
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Could glimpse the true sense of a world of forms; |
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Illumined by a vision in the thought, |
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Upbuoyed by the heart’s understanding flame, |
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It could hold in the conscious ether of the spirit |
|
120 |
The divinity of a symbol universe. |
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(S 10) |
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This realm inspires us with our vaster hopes; |
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Its forces have made landings on our globe, |
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Its signs have traced their pattern in our lives: |
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It lends a sovereign movement to our fate, |
|
125 |
Its errant waves motive our life’s high surge. |
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(S 11) |
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All that we seek for is prefigured there |
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And all we have not known nor ever sought |
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Which yet one day must be born in human hearts |
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That the Timeless may fulfil itself in things. |
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(S 12) |
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130 |
Incarnate in the mystery of the days, |
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Eternal in an unclosed Infinite, |
|
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A mounting endless possibility |
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Climbs high upon a topless ladder of dream |
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For ever in the Being’s conscious trance. |
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(S 13) |
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135 |
All on that ladder mounts to an unseen end. |
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(S 14) |
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An Energy of perpetual transience makes |
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The journey from which no return is sure, |
|
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The pilgrimage of Nature to the Unknown. |
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(S 15) |
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As if in her ascent to her lost source |
|
140 |
She hoped to unroll all that could ever be, |
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Her high procession moves from stage to stage, |
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A progress leap from sight to greater sight, |
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A process march from form to ampler form, |
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A caravan of the inexhaustible |
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145 |
Formations of a boundless Thought and Force. |
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(S 16) |
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Her timeless Power that lay once on the lap |
|
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Of a beginningless and endless Calm, |
|
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Now severed from the Spirit’s immortal bliss, |
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Erects the type of all the joys she has lost; |
|
150 |
Compelling transient substance into shape, |
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She hopes by the creative act’s release |
|
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To o’erleap sometimes the gulf she cannot fill, |
|
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To heal awhile the wound of severance, |
|
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Escape from the moment’s prison of littleness |
|
155 |
And meet the Eternal’s wide sublimities |
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In the uncertain time-field portioned here. |
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(S 17) |
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Almost she nears what never can be attained; |
|
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She shuts eternity into an hour |
|
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And fills a little soul with the Infinite; |
|
160 |
The Immobile leans to the magic of her call; |
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She stands on a shore in the Illimitable, |
|
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Perceives the formless Dweller in all forms |
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And feels around her infinity’s embrace. |
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(S 18) |
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Her task no ending knows; she serves no aim |
|
165 |
But labours driven by a nameless Will |
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That came from some unknowable formless Vast. |
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(S 19) |
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This is her secret and impossible task |
|
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To catch the boundless in a net of birth, |
|
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To cast the spirit into physical form, |
|
170 |
To lend speech and thought to the Ineffable; |
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She is pushed to reveal the ever Unmanifest. |
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(S 20) |
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Yet by her skill the impossible has been done: |
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She follows her sublime irrational plan, |
|
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Invents devices of her magic art |
|
175 |
To find new bodies for the Infinite |
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And images of the Unimaginable; |
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She has lured the Eternal into the arms of Time. |
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(S 21) |
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Even now herself she knows not what she has done. |
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(S 22) |
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For all is wrought beneath a baffling mask: |
|
180 |
A semblance other than its hidden truth |
|
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The aspect wears of an illusion’s trick, |
|
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A feigned time-driven unreality, |
|
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The unfinished creation of a changing soul |
|
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In a body changing with the inhabitant. |
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(S 23) |
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185 |
Insignificant her means, infinite her work; |
|
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On a great field of shapeless consciousness |
|
|
In little finite strokes of mind and sense |
|
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An endless Truth she endlessly unfolds; |
|
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A timeless mystery works out in Time. |
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(S 24) |
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190 |
The greatness she has dreamed her acts have missed, |
|
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Her labour is a passion and a pain, |
|
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A rapture and pang, her glory and her curse; |
|
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And yet she cannot choose but labours on; |
|
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Her mighty heart forbids her to desist. |
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(S 25) |
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195 |
As long as the world lasts her failure lives |
|
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Astonishing and foiling Reason’s gaze, |
|
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A folly and a beauty unspeakable, |
|
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A superb madness of the will to live, |
|
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A daring, a delirium of delight. |
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(S 26) |
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200 |
This is her being’s law, its sole resource; |
|
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She sates, though satisfaction never comes, |
|
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Her hungry will to lavish everywhere |
|
|
Her many-imaged fictions of the Self |
|
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And thousand fashions of one Reality. |
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(S 27) |
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205 |
A world she made touched by truth’s fleeing hem, |
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A world cast into a dream of what it seeks, |
|
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An icon of truth, a conscious mystery’s shape. |
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(S 28) |
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It lingered not like the earth-mind hemmed in |
|
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In solid barriers of apparent fact; |
|
210 |
It dared to trust the dream-mind and the soul. |
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(S 29) |
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A hunter of spiritual verities |
|
|
Still only thought or guessed or held by faith, |
|
|
It seized in imagination and confined |
|
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A painted bird of paradise in a cage. |
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(S 30) |
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215 |
This greater life is enamoured of the Unseen; |
|
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It calls to some highest Light beyond its reach, |
|
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It can feel the Silence that absolves the soul; |
|
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It feels a saviour touch, a ray divine: |
|
|
Beauty and good and truth its godheads are. |
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(S 31) |
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220 |
It is near to heavenlier heavens than earth’s eyes see, |
|
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A direr darkness than man’s life can bear: |
|
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It has kinship with the demon and the god. |
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(S 32) |
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A strange enthusiasm has moved its heart; |
|
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It hungers for heights, it passions for the supreme. |
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(S 33) |
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225 |
It hunts for the perfect word, the perfect shape, |
|
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It leaps to the summit thought, the summit light. |
|
(S 34) |
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For by the form the Formless is brought close |
|
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And all perfection fringes the Absolute. |
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(S 35) |
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A child of heaven who never saw his home, |
|
230 |
Its impetus meets the eternal at a point: |
|
|
It can only near and touch, it cannot hold; |
|
|
It can only strain towards some bright extreme: |
|
|
Its greatness is to seek and to create. |
|
(S 36) |
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On every plane, this Greatness must create. |
|
(S 37) |
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235 |
On earth, in heaven, in hell she is the same; |
|
|
Of every fate she takes her mighty part. |
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(S 38) |
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A guardian of the fire that lights the suns, |
|
|
She triumphs in her glory and her might: |
|
|
Opposed, oppressed she bears God’s urge to be born: |
|
240 |
The spirit survives upon non-being’s ground, |
|
|
World-force outlasts world-disillusion’s shock: |
|
|
Dumb, she is still the Word, inert the Power. |
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(S 39) |
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|
|
Here fallen, a slave of death and ignorance, |
|
|
To things deathless she is driven to aspire |
|
245 |
And moved to know even the Unknowable. |
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(S 40) |
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Even nescient, null, her sleep creates a world. |
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(S 41) |
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When most unseen, most mightily she works; |
|
|
Housed in the atom, buried in the clod, |
|
|
Her quick creative passion cannot cease. |
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(S 42) |
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250 |
Inconscience is her long gigantic pause, |
|
|
Her cosmic swoon is a stupendous phase: |
|
|
Time-born, she hides her immortality; |
|
|
In death, her bed, she waits the hour to rise. |
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(S 43) |
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|
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Even with the Light denied that sent her forth |
|
255 |
And the hope dead she needed for her task, |
|
|
Even when her brightest stars are quenched in Night, |
|
|
Nourished by hardship and calamity |
|
|
And with pain for her body’s handmaid, masseuse, nurse, |
|
|
Her tortured invisible spirit continues still |
|
260 |
To toil though in darkness, to create though with pangs; |
|
|
She carries crucified God upon her breast. |
|
(S 44) |
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In chill insentient depths where joy is none, |
|
|
Immured, oppressed by the resisting Void |
|
|
Where nothing moves and nothing can become, |
|
265 |
Still she remembers, still invokes the skill |
|
|
The Wonder-worker gave her at her birth, |
|
|
Imparts to drowsy formlessness a shape, |
|
|
Reveals a world where nothing was before. |
|
(S 45) |
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|
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In realms confined to a prone circle of death, |
|
270 |
To a dark eternity of Ignorance, |
|
|
A quiver in an inert inconscient mass, |
|
|
Or imprisoned in immobilised whorls of Force, |
|
|
By Matter’s blind compulsion deaf and mute |
|
|
She refuses motionless in the dust to sleep. |
(MA) |
(S 46) |
|
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275 |
Then, for her rebel waking’s punishment |
|
|
Given only hard mechanic Circumstance |
|
|
As the enginery of her magic craft, |
|
|
She fashions godlike marvels out of mud; |
|
|
In the plasm she sets her dumb immortal urge, |
|
280 |
Helps the live tissue to think, the closed sense to feel, |
|
|
Flashes through the frail nerves poignant messages, |
|
|
In a heart of flesh miraculously loves, |
|
|
To brute bodies gives a soul, a will, a voice. |
|
(S 47) |
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|
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Ever she summons as by a sorcerer’s wand |
|
285 |
Beings and shapes and scenes innumerable, |
|
|
Torch-bearers of her pomps through Time and Space. |
|
(S 48) |
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|
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This world is her long journey through the night, |
|
|
The suns and planets lamps to light her road, |
|
|
Our reason is the confidante of her thoughts, |
|
290 |
Our senses are her vibrant witnesses. |
|
(S 49) |
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|
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There drawing her signs from things half true, half false, |
|
|
She labours to replace by realised dreams |
|
|
The memory of her lost eternity. |
|
(S 50) |
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|
|
These are her deeds in this huge world-ignorance: |
|
295 |
Till the veil is lifted, till the night is dead, |
|
|
In light or dark she keeps her tireless search; |
|
|
Time is her road of endless pilgrimage. |
|
(S 51) |
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|
|
One mighty passion motives all her works. |
|
(S 52) |
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|
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Her eternal Lover is her action’s cause; |
|
300 |
For him she leaped forth from the unseen Vasts |
|
|
To move here in a stark unconscious world. |
|
(S 53) |
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|
|
Its acts are her commerce with her hidden Guest, |
|
|
His moods she takes for her heart’s passionate moulds; |
|
|
In beauty she treasures the sunlight of his smile. |
|
(S 54) |
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|
305 |
Ashamed of her rich cosmic poverty, |
|
|
She cajoles with her small gifts his mightiness, |
|
|
Holds with her scenes his look’s fidelity |
|
|
And woos his large-eyed wandering thoughts to dwell |
|
|
In figures of her million-impulsed Force. |
|
(S 55) |
|
|
310 |
Only to attract her veiled companion |
(MA) |
|
And keep him close to her breast in her world-cloak |
|
|
Lest from her arms he turn to his formless peace, |
|
|
Is her heart’s business and her clinging care. |
|
(S 56) |
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|
|
Yet when he is most near, she feels him far. |
|
(S 57) |
|
|
315 |
For contradiction is her nature’s law. |
|
(S 58) |
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|
|
Although she is ever in him and he in her, |
|
|
As if unaware of the eternal tie, |
|
|
Her will is to shut God into her works |
|
|
And keep him as her cherished prisoner |
|
320 |
That never they may part again in Time. |
|
(S 59) |
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|
|
A sumptuous chamber of the spirit’s sleep |
|
|
At first she made, a deep interior room, |
|
|
Where he slumbers as if a forgotten guest. |
|
(S 60) |
|
|
|
But now she turns to break the oblivious spell, |
|
325 |
Awakes the sleeper on the sculptured couch; |
|
|
She finds again the Presence in the form |
|
|
And in the light that wakes with him recovers |
|
|
A meaning in the hurry and trudge of Time, |
|
|
And through this mind that once obscured the soul |
|
330 |
Passes a glint of unseen deity. |
|
(S 61) |
|
|
|
Across a luminous dream of spirit-space |
|
|
She builds creation like a rainbow bridge |
|
|
Between the original Silence and the Void. |
|
(S 62) |
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|
|
A net is made of the mobile universe; |
|
335 |
She weaves a snare for the conscious Infinite. |
|
(S 63) |
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|
|
A knowledge is with her that conceals its steps |
|
|
And seems a mute omnipotent Ignorance. |
|
(S 64) |
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|
|
A might is with her that makes wonders true; |
|
|
The incredible is her stuff of common fact. |
|
(S 65) |
|
|
340 |
Her purposes, her workings riddles prove; |
|
|
Examined, they grow other than they were, |
|
|
Explained, they seem yet more inexplicable. |
|
(S 66) |
|
|
|
Even in our world a mystery has reigned |
|
|
Earth’s cunning screen of trivial plainness hides; |
|
345 |
Her larger levels are of sorceries made. |
|
(S 67) |
|
|
|
There the enigma shows its splendid prism, |
|
|
There is no deep disguise of commonness; |
|
|
Occult, profound comes all experience, |
|
|
Marvel is ever new, miracle divine. |
|
(S 68) |
|
|
350 |
There is a screened burden, a mysterious touch, |
|
|
There is a secrecy of hidden sense. |
|
(S 69) |
|
|
|
Although no earthen mask weighs on her face, |
|
|
Into herself she flees from her own sight. |
|
(S 70) |
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|
|
All forms are tokens of some veiled idea |
|
355 |
Whose covert purpose lurks from mind’s pursuit, |
|
|
Yet is a womb of sovereign consequence. |
|
(S 71) |
|
|
|
There every thought and feeling is an act, |
|
|
And every act a symbol and a sign, |
|
|
And every symbol hides a living power. |
|
(S 72) |
|
|
360 |
A universe she builds from truths and myths, |
|
|
But what she needed most she cannot build; |
|
|
All shown is a figure or copy of the Truth, |
|
|
But the Real veils from her its mystic face. |
|
(S 73) |
|
|
|
All else she finds, there lacks eternity; |
|
365 |
All is sought out, but missed the Infinite. |
|