—­March 15, 1894

The Secret

One thing in all things have I seen: 
        One thought has haunted earth and air;
Clangour and silence both have been
        Its palace chambers.  Everywhere

I saw the mystic vision flow,
        And live in men, and woods, and streams,
Until I could no longer know
        The dream of life from my own dreams.

Sometimes it rose like fire in me,
        Within the depths of my own mind,
And spreading to infinity,
        It took the voices of the wind.

It scrawled the human mystery,
        Dim heraldry—­on light and air;
Wavering along the starry sea,
        I saw the flying vision there.

Each fire that in God’s temple lit
        Burns fierce before the inner shrine,
Dimmed as my fire grew near to it,
        And darkened at the light of mine.

At last, at last, the meaning caught: 
        When spirit wears its diadem,
It shakes its wondrous plumes of thought,
        And trails the stars along with them.

—­April 15, 1894

Dust

I heard them in their sadness say,
        “The earth rebukes the thought of God: 
We are but embers wrapt in clay
        A little nobler than the sod.”

But I have touched the lips of clay—­
        Mother, thy rudest sod to me
Is thrilled with fire of hidden day,
        And haunted by all mystery.

—­May 15, 1894

Magic —­After reading the Upanishads

Out of the dusky chamber of the brain
Flows the imperial will through dream on dream;
The fires of life around it tempt and gleam;
The lights of earth behind it fade and wane.

Passed beyond beauty tempting dream on dream,
The pure will seeks the hearthold of the light;
Sounds the deep “Om,” the mystic word of might;
Forth from the hearthold breaks the living stream.

Passed out beyond the deep heart music-filled,
The kingly Will sits on the ancient throne,
Wielding the sceptre, fearless, free, alone,
Knowing in Brahma all it dared and willed.

—­June 15, 1894

Immortality

We must pass like smoke, or live within the spirits’ fire;
        For we can no more than smoke unto the flame return. 
If our thought has changed to dream, or will into desire,
        As smoke we vanish o’er the fires that burn.

Lights of infinite pity star the grey dusk of our days;
        Surely here is soul; with it we have eternal breath;
In the fire of love we live or pass by many ways,
        By unnumbered ways of dream to death.

—­July 15, 1894