One Consciousness, that in the brotherhood
Of all earth’s living creatures movest on
The shaken ramparts of Oblivion—
Whose starry cry, across the darkness hurled,
Makes music in the silence of the world!
Life, whose sole splendor in red slaughter spills
The blood of its own breast; in many wills
Wars on the one Will; and in wrath or dread
Feeds on itself and, on itself being fed,
Shines forth in song and color; gilds the dress