 | The Stranger at the Gate |  |
XI
Son of the Mother of mothers,
The womb and the tomb of Life,
With Fire and Air for brothers
And a clinging Dream for a wife;
The womb and the tomb of Life,
With Fire and Air for brothers
And a clinging Dream for a wife;
36
Ever the soul of the dreamer
Strove with its mortal mesh,
And the lean flame grew till it fretted through
The last thin links of flesh.
Strove with its mortal mesh,
And the lean flame grew till it fretted through
The last thin links of flesh.
Oh, rending the veil asunder,
He fled to mingle again
With the dread Orestean thunder,
The Lear of the driven rain!
He fled to mingle again
With the dread Orestean thunder,
The Lear of the driven rain!
| The Stranger at the Gate | |