| George William (“A. E.”) Russell (1867–1935). Collected Poems by A.E. 1913. |
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| 140. The Feast of Age |
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| SEE where the light streams over Connla’s fountain | |
| Starward aspire! | |
| The sacred sign upon the holy mountain | |
| Shines in white fire: | |
| Wavering and flaming yonder o’er the snows | 5 |
| The diamond light | |
| Melts into silver or to sapphire glows, | |
| Night beyond night: | |
| And from the heaven of heaven descends on earth | |
| A dew divine. | 10 |
| Come, let us mingle in the starry mirth | |
| Around the shrine. | |
| O earth, enchantress, mother, to our home | |
| In thee we press, | |
| Thrilled by thy fiery breath and wrapt in some | 15 |
| Vast tenderness. | |
| The homeward birds, uncertain o’er their nest | |
| Wheel in the dome, | |
| Fraught with dim dreams of more enraptured rest, | |
| Another home. | 20 |
| But gather ye, to whose undarkened eyes | |
| Night is as day, | |
| Leap forth, immortals, birds of paradise, | |
| In bright array, | |
| Robed like the shining tresses of the sun, | 25 |
| And by his name | |
| Call from his haunt divine the ancient one, | |
| Our father flame. | |
| Aye, from the wonder light, heart of our star, | |
| Come now, come now. | 30 |
| Sun-breathing spirit, ray thy lights afar: | |
| Thy children bow, | |
| Hush with more awe the heart; the bright-browed races | |
| Are nothing worth, | |
| By those dread gods from out whose awful faces | 35 |
| The earth looks forth | |
| Infinite pity set in calm, whose vision cast | |
| Adown the years | |
| Beholds how beauty burns away at last | |
| Their children’s tears. | 40 |
| Now while our hearts the ancient quietness | |
| Floods with its tide, | |
| The things of air and fire and height no less | |
| In it abide; | |
| And from their wanderings over sea and shore | 45 |
| They rise as one | |
| Unto the vastness, and with us adore | |
| The midnight sun, | |
| And enter the innumerable All | |
| And shine like gold, | 50 |
| And starlike gleam in the immortal’s hall, | |
| The heavenly fold, | |
| And drink the sun-breaths from the mother’s lips | |
| Awhile, and then | |
| Fail from the light and drop in dark eclipse | 55 |
| To earth again, | |
| Roaming along by heaven-hid promontory | |
| And valley dim, | |
| Weaving a phantom image of the glory | |
| They knew in Him. | 60 |
| Out of the fulness flow the winds, their song | |
| Is heard no more, | |
| Or hardly breathes a mystic sound along | |
| The dreamy shore, | |
| Blindly they move, unknowing as in trance; | 65 |
| Their wandering | |
| Is half with us, and half an inner dance, | |
| Led by the King. | |
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