Thy light is as an eminence unto thee,And thou are upheld by the pillars of thy strength.Thy power is a foundation for the worlds;They are builded thereon as upon a lofty rockWhereto no enemy hath access.Thou puttest forth thy rays, and they hold the skyAs in the hollow of an immense hand.Thou erectest thy light as four walls,And a roof with many beams and pillars.Thy flame is a stronghold based as a mountain;Its bastions are tall, and firm like stone.The worlds are bound with the ropes of thy will;Like steeds are they stayed and contrainedBy the reins of invisible lightnings.With bands that are stouter than iron manifold,And stronger than the cords of the gulfs,Thou withholdest them from the brinkOf outward and perilous deeps,Lest they perish in the desolations of the night,Or be stricken of strange suns;Lest they be caught in the pitfalls of the abyss,Or fall into the furnace of Arcturus.Thy law is as a shore unto them,And they are restrained thereby as the sea.Thou art food and drink to the worlds;Yea, by thy toil are they sustained,That they fail not upon the road of space,Whose goal is Hercules.When thy pillars of force are withdrawn,And the walls of thy light fall inward,Borne down by the sundering night,And thy head is covered with the Shadow,The worlds shall wander as men bewilderedIn the sterile and lifeless waste.Athirst and unfed shall they be,When the springs of thy strength are dust,And thy fields of light are black with dearth.They shall perish from the waysThat thou showest no longer,And emptiness shall close above them.
THE FUGITIVES
O fugitive fragrancesThat tremble heavenwardUnceasing, or if ye linger,Halt but as memoriesOn the verge of forgetfulness,Why must ye pass so fleetlyOn wings that are less than wind,To a death unknowable?Soon ye are gone, and the airForgets your faint unrestIn the garden's breathlessness,Where fall the snows of silence.