A Star Among the Reeds

OUT of the dusk the Wanderers drew near,
Planets that burned above the dim parade,
Above the white road mystically clear
Through moveless isles of shade.
He trod the dust on which the stars came down
Immortal with the radiance of the world,
And watched the little meteors hurled
Into the dark. ‘So drown
Thoughts that would speak the wonder of the soul,’
He cried, ‘when glory far exceeds the sight.
This is the presence chamber of the Whole,
And here the stars immerse
The panting heart in everlasting light.
This is the universe.’

What prescience in the realms of dusk draws back
The Wanderers to their homeless depths of sky?
It is the dawn; through the long leafy track
Her young wings winnow by.
Fringed in the reedy shallows of a pond
He sees the last star swimming white and cold
Where measureless deeps of cloud unfold
Beneath a trembling frond.
‘ Does not Illusion give to cloud and crag
The depths that make still waters yet more deep?
The farthest star beneath the iris flag
Swims where the ripples purse
The pool’s cold lips,’ he cried, ‘as if in sleep.
This is the universe.’