The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite in two volumes ... With a Portrait |
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THE SUBSTITUTED EPISTLE |
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 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
324
XVI
THE SUBSTITUTED EPISTLE
The way of compassion is also the way of sorrow.
Ascetic Life
The end of self-denial
Is not to rack the flesh,
Of needless pain in heart and brain
Adding yet burdens fresh.
Is not to rack the flesh,
Of needless pain in heart and brain
Adding yet burdens fresh.
It is to school the spirit
Till this reveals to sense
How patience meek through all must seek,
And yet through all dispense;
Till this reveals to sense
How patience meek through all must seek,
And yet through all dispense;
Must look for love the perfect,
For truth the perfect end;
Not for the prize before the eyes
But that unseen contend.
For truth the perfect end;
Not for the prize before the eyes
But that unseen contend.
Yet must we strive, provided
To fail on earth of each;
Must nurse no doubt but still hold out
To reach what's out of reach.
To fail on earth of each;
Must nurse no doubt but still hold out
To reach what's out of reach.
The lesser purpose round us
Shall gain the lesser meed,
And take its fill; the greater, still
Go empty and in need.
Shall gain the lesser meed,
And take its fill; the greater, still
Go empty and in need.
325
The world unfolds her treasures;
It sighs but does not stay;
O'er secret parts of human hearts
It yearns, but moves away.
It sighs but does not stay;
O'er secret parts of human hearts
It yearns, but moves away.
Perchance its goal awaits it:
We dream but do not see;
If we but knew, our pains were few—
Ah, light our task would be!
We dream but do not see;
If we but knew, our pains were few—
Ah, light our task would be!
Task, do I say? What spirit
Would pause on things of earth,
Did bright and clear that star appear
Whence all our stars draw birth?
Would pause on things of earth,
Did bright and clear that star appear
Whence all our stars draw birth?
To act as if with knowledge
Is here meanwhile our lot,
And to forego but not to know—
Asking, but answer'd not.
Is here meanwhile our lot,
And to forego but not to know—
Asking, but answer'd not.
One thing is certain only—
That which we burn to find
Earth cannot give; for this to live
Dares not the man of mind.
That which we burn to find
Earth cannot give; for this to live
Dares not the man of mind.
And so by self-denial
His great shall school his less,
'Twixt soul and star to lift no bar—
Because the end may bless.
His great shall school his less,
'Twixt soul and star to lift no bar—
Because the end may bless.
O well for those who labour
Their daily bread to eat,
And God at last bless those who fast,
Desiring ghostly meat!
Their daily bread to eat,
And God at last bless those who fast,
Desiring ghostly meat!
The Path of the Cross is the Path of the Mystical Rose, though Rose and Cross are joined. That which they form together ceases to be a path of sorrow.
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |