Wherein the Poet is Delivered of A Vision

XXXI

Up from the Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravel’d by the Road;
But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.

XXXII

There was a Door to which I found no Key:
There was a Veil past which I could not see”
Some little Talk awhile of ‘Me’ and ‘Thee’
There seemed—and then no more of ‘Thee’ and ‘Me.’

XXXIII

Then to the rolling Heav’n itself I cried,
Asking, ‘What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?’
And—‘A blind Understanding!’ Heav’n replied.

XXXIV

Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur’d—‘While you live
Drink! for once dead you never shall return.’

XXXV

I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer’d, once did live’
And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss’d
How many Kisses might it take—and give!

XXXVI

For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch’d the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur’d—‘Gently, Brother, gently, pray!’

XXXVII

Ah, fill the Cup:–what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn ‘To-morrow,’ and dead ‘Yesterday’,
Why fret about them if ‘To-day’ be sweet!

XXXVIII

One Moment in Annihilation’s Waste,
One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste—
The Stars are setting and the Caravan
Starts for the Dawn of Nothing—Oh, make haste!

XXXIX

How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavor and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.