 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
STELLA
The mystic singer to a certain Star
In salutation! . . . Be thy secret name
Inscribed upon the Palace of the King,
And on the white apocalyptic stone
Engraved indelibly! I paced at night
The City's streets; an inspiration came;
And, like a tempest, suddenly it strove
With all my being. To thyself it bore
A mighty message, until now retain'd—
That from the sacred heart of sylvan things,
From woods and forests, from eternal downs,
From water-sides, the Golden Word might come—
A formal promise of the Crown of Life
Assured in poem which is prophecy.
It bids me first recall thy nature's depths,
The heights thereof, and then those sacred arts
With whose exalted themes thy longing holds
Impassion'd correspondence. These are proofs
That things undream'd await thee. In thy hands
The future lies; conceive what end thou wilt,
And, on the honour of the angel bands,
Thou shalt attain it, thou shalt reign therefrom!
In salutation! . . . Be thy secret name
Inscribed upon the Palace of the King,
And on the white apocalyptic stone
Engraved indelibly! I paced at night
The City's streets; an inspiration came;
And, like a tempest, suddenly it strove
With all my being. To thyself it bore
A mighty message, until now retain'd—
That from the sacred heart of sylvan things,
From woods and forests, from eternal downs,
From water-sides, the Golden Word might come—
A formal promise of the Crown of Life
Assured in poem which is prophecy.
245
The heights thereof, and then those sacred arts
With whose exalted themes thy longing holds
Impassion'd correspondence. These are proofs
That things undream'd await thee. In thy hands
The future lies; conceive what end thou wilt,
And, on the honour of the angel bands,
Thou shalt attain it, thou shalt reign therefrom!
My soul is set upon an endless quest
To span the bounds of being; on the heights,
Towards which my face is set, behold, I swear
To greet thy spirit, be it late or soon!
Forth to the Light! Forth to the height of God!
The tocsin call comes from the Infinite;
All Nature taking voice, her organ tone
Has culminated in a single cry
Of clamorous accordance, urging on!
Speed on! The arrow to the Star ascends;
Through mortal channel comes immortal speech. . . .
To span the bounds of being; on the heights,
Towards which my face is set, behold, I swear
To greet thy spirit, be it late or soon!
Forth to the Light! Forth to the height of God!
The tocsin call comes from the Infinite;
All Nature taking voice, her organ tone
Has culminated in a single cry
Of clamorous accordance, urging on!
Speed on! The arrow to the Star ascends;
Through mortal channel comes immortal speech. . . .
The mystic singer to a certain Star
His salutation sends.
His salutation sends.
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |