Patient: Now let us walk from fire unto fire,
From passionate pain to deadlier delight,--
I am too young to live without desire,
Too young art thou to waste this summer night
For, sweet, to feel is better than to know,
And wisdom is a childless heritage,
Nurse: White lilies, in whose cups the gold bees dream,
The fallen snow of petals where the breeze, —are not these
Enough for thee, dost thou desire more?
Alas! the Gods will give nothing else from their eternal store.
Victim and wine and vow are all in vain,
The tomb is sealed; the soldiers watch;
the dead rise not again.
Sweet the swallow, twittering on the eaves
At daybreak, when the mower whets his scythe,
Both: Sing on! Sing on! let the dull world grow young
Let elemental things take form again
We are resolved into the supreme air,
We are made one with what we touch and see,
With our heart’s blood each crimson sun is fair,
With our young lives each spring-impassioned tree
We shall be notes in that great Symphony
Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres,
And all the live World’s throbbing heart shall be
One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years
Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die,
The Universe itself shall be our Immortality! 1
And through all æons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!