 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
115
JAM NOLI TARDARE
Veil of Nature sacramental,
Thou art close but thou art thin,
And the inward, transcendental
Glory canst at need let in:
Lights engird the chosen head
From no sun of Nature shed.
Thou art close but thou art thin,
And the inward, transcendental
Glory canst at need let in:
Lights engird the chosen head
From no sun of Nature shed.
And to see the veils dissolving
Need we travel fast or far,
Past the flashing suns revolving,
Onward to the furthest star?
Are they thinner, think you, friend,
Where the cosmic glories end?
Need we travel fast or far,
Past the flashing suns revolving,
Onward to the furthest star?
Are they thinner, think you, friend,
Where the cosmic glories end?
Undetermined starry spaces,
Fill with joy your paths unknown!
But to catch the inward graces
Needs the inward sight alone:
Meanest places hold the spell
Of unfathom'd miracle.
Fill with joy your paths unknown!
But to catch the inward graces
Needs the inward sight alone:
Meanest places hold the spell
Of unfathom'd miracle.
Hence when any hour invites you,
Whether seemly eve's repose,
Or, if better this delights you,
Night august or hush'd moon-close—
Best where best your charm is found—
Pass into your garden-ground.
Whether seemly eve's repose,
Or, if better this delights you,
Night august or hush'd moon-close—
Best where best your charm is found—
Pass into your garden-ground.
There a sudden sense supernal
On the mind prepared may fall,
As of haunted thought eternal
And great strangeness vesting all;
Grass and glebe and grove expound
Thin-veil'd secrets latent round.
On the mind prepared may fall,
As of haunted thought eternal
And great strangeness vesting all;
Grass and glebe and grove expound
Thin-veil'd secrets latent round.
116
Not in bowers of roses solely
Shall the wondrous tale be told,
But in wild ways meek and lowly,
Beds of burning marigold:
Most betwixt the lilies straight
Swings the visionary gate.
Shall the wondrous tale be told,
But in wild ways meek and lowly,
Beds of burning marigold:
Most betwixt the lilies straight
Swings the visionary gate.
Not devoid of dream—if blended—
Are the windflowers and the docks,
For myself I love a splendid
Place of purple hollyhocks,
And my fancy knows great powers
Which lie rich in the sunflowers.
Are the windflowers and the docks,
For myself I love a splendid
Place of purple hollyhocks,
And my fancy knows great powers
Which lie rich in the sunflowers.
I could set you in my closes,
With the seeing sense endow'd,
Where the weed is as the rose is,
And the bird's lilt, low or loud,
Voices outward, clear and strong,
Worlds of rapture, worlds of song.
With the seeing sense endow'd,
Where the weed is as the rose is,
And the bird's lilt, low or loud,
Voices outward, clear and strong,
Worlds of rapture, worlds of song.
But for you a place of wonder
Your own garden ground must be;
'Twixt the trees that you stand under,
Seeing what is yours to see:
In my garden, seen aright,
All is scarlet and white light.
Your own garden ground must be;
'Twixt the trees that you stand under,
Seeing what is yours to see:
In my garden, seen aright,
All is scarlet and white light.
Of all flowers the bloom and splendour
Backward, forward sweep and swing,
Light as pampas grass and slender,
Fringe the edge of the world's ring;
As the wind-tides round them lave,
Cups and patens flame and wave.
Backward, forward sweep and swing,
Light as pampas grass and slender,
Fringe the edge of the world's ring;
As the wind-tides round them lave,
Cups and patens flame and wave.
117
But when eastward some moon rises
(Many moons have haunted there,
As the witchcraft pomp devises),
They are virgins very fair,
In ecstatic motion driven
Towards the virgin born of heaven.
(Many moons have haunted there,
As the witchcraft pomp devises),
They are virgins very fair,
In ecstatic motion driven
Towards the virgin born of heaven.
And sweet incense, each exhaling
From a thurible, ascends,
Drifts, a dim enchanted veiling,
Eastward as the dew descends:
Hence conceal'd in all that seems,
Truly human nature teems.
From a thurible, ascends,
Drifts, a dim enchanted veiling,
Eastward as the dew descends:
Hence conceal'd in all that seems,
Truly human nature teems.
Yes, all Nature waits expecting—
Forest, floral hall and field—
For some vital word directing
Her those sleep-held forms to yield:
Long expected, long deferr'd,
Come, thou great unutter'd Word!
Forest, floral hall and field—
For some vital word directing
Her those sleep-held forms to yield:
Long expected, long deferr'd,
Come, thou great unutter'd Word!
Then if man through far creation
Must the secret meaning make,
Fountain, centre, destination,
Let that secret soul awake,
And present the inmost plan—
Man in all and God in man!
Must the secret meaning make,
Fountain, centre, destination,
Let that secret soul awake,
And present the inmost plan—
Man in all and God in man!
While the Word of Words reposes
Far beyond the lip's control,
Till the fitting time discloses,
In the garden of the soul,
Let us dreamers day by day
In the outward gardens pray:
Far beyond the lip's control,
Till the fitting time discloses,
In the garden of the soul,
Let us dreamers day by day
In the outward gardens pray:
118
Pray that flesh divinely sifted
May discern the Word of power;
Then transmuted Nature, lifted,
Shall confess the crowning hour;
Putting weed and vesture by,
Shall unveil humanity!
May discern the Word of power;
Then transmuted Nature, lifted,
Shall confess the crowning hour;
Putting weed and vesture by,
Shall unveil humanity!
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |