Song Of The Spirit Of Creation

LET orb be wedded unto orb!--let light Engender in the wombs of fiery clouds In flashing spirals scarring the dead Night, With tongues of argent fire and crimson shrouds. You bear the seed of Worlds; from you shall spring A Universe through roaring cycles spun Round him whose bulk enormous crowns him king And master of all vassal orbs, the Sun! You golden worlds or white, you gelid Moons, Each in your mountant orbit king or queen, In midnights plunged or soaring in your noons, Accoutred in glory male, or virgin sheen, Awake! awake! the dark unbars her gate! Burst forth like gems from Death's titanic tomb! The joyous zenith and mute nadir wait, Vessels of Life reborn, to yield you room. Rocks and their garnered ores shall form your flesh, And you shall pant in flowing seas of Air; You shall have boon of Waters, salt and fresh, And gift of godlike Fire to make you fair.

Afloat in splendour, panoplied in light--the arch-pontifical Sun!

He shakes his threshing, intolerable mane of flames, his face bans darkness and makes a burning void in his domains. He pours his lustihood and power upon the joyous spheres. His rays transmute all things. Through the dancing infant host his Magnificat is upborne on the breath of his desire.

Triumphant rolls his paean. He casts from him his tempests of solar melody, vibrant and far-winged.