If thou and I shall clutch the gloom, and die,
Life but a tangled boon, a vicious blot,
Spun by the sightless Powers? Nay, shalt not thou,
Elate, clad in eternal Vestiture,
Greet me upon the eternal Marge? Yea, then,
Shall not I, ageless Wisdom on my brow,
Spell out thy charm occult? Sweet Mystery pure,
So shall I search thy secrets yet again!
THE GOLDEN MUSICIAN
Melodious Bird, thy winsome word