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O my soul, whence came it? And how many centuries has it passed
Haply through souls of my forefathers, ere unto me it came?
On how many marriage-tables as a requiem-cloth was it cast?
On how many rose-hued smiles came its chill and earthen blast?
And in how many lamps did it blanch amid salt and essence of flame?
“Dawning in the West” (1896).
4. THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE BELIEVERS.
Our ponderings have bathed in fiery waves of a sacred summer,
Which kindles azure of souls with glow of all August-tides and ripening of all stars.
And when they had cleansed away their grievous tokens of earth, they rose up in purity of earliest radiances.
And fathomed potent blisses of time: its breath was sweet with hope of the dead
And with baffling tempest seethed therein budding burgeons of all gardens to be.
Days that were void of mornings from distances cast lights upon us, like time-old echoes of yearning,
We were frenzied with frenzy of love, that was an orison to the Highest.
From our lips trickled its sweetness and yet burned with sacred thirst
Our eyes drank thereof from brotherly eyes and to our brothers' gazes gave it to drink
And in unknown quivering nearness of blood chimed to us with riddling music.