1 First Song Of The Veil -
How God in the beginning drew
Over his face the Veil of blue,
Wherefore no soul of mortal race
Hath ever look'd upon the Face;
Children of earth whose spirits fail
Heark to the First Song of the Veil.
I.
THE VEIL WOVEN .
In the beginning,
Ere Man grew,
The Veil was woven
Bright and blue;
Soft mists and vapours
Gather'd and mingled
Over the black world
Stretched below,
While winds of heaven
Blew from all places,
Shining luminous,
A starry snow.
Blindly, dumbly,
Darken'd under
Ocean and river,
Mountain and dale,
While over his features,
Wondrous, terrible,
The beautiful Master
Drew the Veil:
Then starry, luminous,
Rolled the Veil of azure
O'er the first dwellings.
Of mortal race;
— And since the beginning
No mortal vision,
Pure or sinning,
Hath seen the Face.
Yet mark me closely!
Strongly I swear,
Seen or seen not,
The Face is there !
When the Veil is clearest
And sunniest,
Closest and nearest
The Face is prest;
But when, grown weary
With long downlooking,
The Face withrawing
For a time is gone,
The great Veil darkens,
And ye see full clearly
Glittering numberless
The gems thereon.
For the lamp of his features
Divinely burning,
Shines, and suffuses
The Veil with light,
And the Face, drawn backward
With that deep sighing
Ye hear in the gloaming,
Leaveth the Night.
Thus it befell to men.
Graveward they journeyed,
From waking to sleeping,
In doubt and in fear,
Evermore hoping,
Evermore seeking,
Nevermore guessing
The Master so near:
Making strange idols,
Rearing fair Temples,
Crying, denying,
Questioning, dreaming,
Nevermore certain
Of God and His grace, —
Evermore craving,
To look on a token,
To gaze on a Face.
Now an Evangel,
Whom God loved deep,
Said, " See! the mortals,
How they weep!
They grope in darkness,
They blunder onward
From race to race,
Were it not better,
Once and for ever,
To unveil the Face?"
God smiled.
He said — " Not yet?
Much is to remember,
Much to forget;
Be thou of comfort!
How should the token
Silence their wail?"
And, with eyes tear-clouded,
He gazed through the luminous,
Star-inwrought, beautiful,
Folds of the Veil.
II.
EARTH THE MOTHER .
Beautiful, beautiful, she lay below,
The mighty Mother of humanity,
Turning her sightless eyeballs to the glow
Of light she could not see,
Feeling the happy warmth, and breathing slow
As if her thoughts were shining tranquilly.
Beautiful, beautiful the Mother lay,
Crownid with silver spray,
The greenness gathering hushfully around
The peace of her great heart, while on her breast
The wayward Waters, with a weeping sound,
Were sobbing into rest.
For all day long her face shone merrily,
And at its smile the waves leapt mad and free:
But at the darkening of the Veil, she drew
The wild things to herself, and husht their cries.
Then, stiller, dumber, search'd the deepening Blue
With passionate blind eyes;
And went the old life over in her thought,
Dreamily praying as her memory wrought
The dimly guessed at, never utter'd tale,
While, over her dreaming,
Deepen'd the luminous,
Star-inwrought, beautiful,
Folds of the wondrous Veil.
For more than any of her children of clay
The beautiful Mother knows —
She is so old!
Ye would go wild to hearken, if this day
Her dumb lips should unclose,
And the tale be told:
Such unfathomable things,
Such mystic vanishings,
She knoweth about God — she is so old.
For oft, in the beginning, long ago,
Without a Veil looked down the Face ye know,
And Earth, an infant happy-eyed and bright,
Look'd smiling up, and gladden'd in its sight.
But later, when the Man-Flower from her womb
Burst into brightening bloom,
In her glad eyes a golden dust was blown
Out of the Void, and she was blind as stone.
And since that day
She hath not seen, nor spoken, — lest her say
Should be a sorrow and fear to mortal race,
And doth not know the Lord hath hid away,
But turneth up blind orbs — to feel the Face.
III.
CHILDREN OF EARTH .
So dumbly, blindly,
So cheerly, sweetly,
The beautiful Mother
Of mortals smiled;
Her children marvell'd
And looked upon her —
Her patient features
Were bright and mild;
And on her eyeballs
Night and day,
A sweet light glimmer'd
From far away.
Her children gather'd
With sobs and cries,
To see the sweetness
Of sightless eyes;
But though she held them
So dear, so dear,
She could not answer,
She could not hear.
She felt them flutter
Around her knee,
She felt their weeping,
Yet knew not wherefore —
She could not see.
" O Mother! Mother
Of mortal race!
Is there a Father?
Is there a Face?"
She felt their sorrow
Against her cheek, —
She could not hearken,
She could not speak;
With thin lips fluttering,
With blind eyes tearful,
And features pale,
She clasp'd her children,
And looked in silence
Upon the Veil.
Her hair grew silvern,
The swift days fled,
Her lap was heavy
With children dead;
To her heart she held them,
But could not warm them —
The life within them
Was gone like dew.
Whiter, stiller,
The Mother grew.
The World grew hoary,
The World was weary,
The children cried at
The empty air:
" Father of mortals!"
The children murmured,
" Father! Father!
Art Thou there?"
Then the Master answer'd
From the thunder-cloud:
" I am God the Maker!
I am God the Master!
I am God the Father!"
He cried aloud.
Further, the Master
Made sign on sign —
Footprints of his spirits,
Voices divine;
His breath was a water,
His cry was a wind.
But the people heard not,
The people saw not, —
Earth and her children
Were deaf and blind.
" Call the great philosophers!
Call them all hither, —
The good, the wise!"
Their robes were snowy,
Their hearts were holy,
They had cold still eyes.
To the mountain-summits
Wearily they wander'd,
Reaching the desolate
Regions of snow,
Looming there lonely,
They searched the Veil wonderful
With tubes fire-fashion'd
In caverns below ...
God withdrew backward,
And darker, dimmer,
Deepen'd the day:
O'er the philosophers
Looming there lonely
Night gather'd gray.
Then the wise men gazing
Saw the lights above them
Thicken and thicken,
And all went pale —
Ah! the lamps numberless,
The mystical jewels of God,
The luminous, wonderful,
Beautiful lights of the Veil!
Alas for the Wise Men!
The snows of the mountain
Drifted about them,
And the wind cried round them,
As the lights of wonder
Multiplied!
The breath of the mountain
Froze them into stillness, —
They sighed and died.
Still in the desolate
Heights overhead,
Stand their shapes frozen,
Frozen and dead.
But a weary few,
Weary and dull and cold,
Crept faintly down again,
Looking very old;
And when the people
Gather'd around them,
The heart went sickly
At their dull blank stare —
" O Wise Men answer!
Is there a Father?
Is there a beautiful
Face up there?"
The Wise Men answer'd and said:
" Bury us deep when dead —
We have travelled a weary road,
We have seen no more than ye.
" Twere better not to be —
There is no God!"
And the people, hearkening,
Saw the Veil above them,
And the darkness deepen'd,
And the Lights gleamed pale.
Ah! the lamps numberless,
The mystical jewels of God,
The luminous, wonderful,
Beautiful Lights of the Veil!
Over his face the Veil of blue,
Wherefore no soul of mortal race
Hath ever look'd upon the Face;
Children of earth whose spirits fail
Heark to the First Song of the Veil.
I.
THE VEIL WOVEN .
In the beginning,
Ere Man grew,
The Veil was woven
Bright and blue;
Soft mists and vapours
Gather'd and mingled
Over the black world
Stretched below,
While winds of heaven
Blew from all places,
Shining luminous,
A starry snow.
Blindly, dumbly,
Darken'd under
Ocean and river,
Mountain and dale,
While over his features,
Wondrous, terrible,
The beautiful Master
Drew the Veil:
Then starry, luminous,
Rolled the Veil of azure
O'er the first dwellings.
Of mortal race;
— And since the beginning
No mortal vision,
Pure or sinning,
Hath seen the Face.
Yet mark me closely!
Strongly I swear,
Seen or seen not,
The Face is there !
When the Veil is clearest
And sunniest,
Closest and nearest
The Face is prest;
But when, grown weary
With long downlooking,
The Face withrawing
For a time is gone,
The great Veil darkens,
And ye see full clearly
Glittering numberless
The gems thereon.
For the lamp of his features
Divinely burning,
Shines, and suffuses
The Veil with light,
And the Face, drawn backward
With that deep sighing
Ye hear in the gloaming,
Leaveth the Night.
Thus it befell to men.
Graveward they journeyed,
From waking to sleeping,
In doubt and in fear,
Evermore hoping,
Evermore seeking,
Nevermore guessing
The Master so near:
Making strange idols,
Rearing fair Temples,
Crying, denying,
Questioning, dreaming,
Nevermore certain
Of God and His grace, —
Evermore craving,
To look on a token,
To gaze on a Face.
Now an Evangel,
Whom God loved deep,
Said, " See! the mortals,
How they weep!
They grope in darkness,
They blunder onward
From race to race,
Were it not better,
Once and for ever,
To unveil the Face?"
God smiled.
He said — " Not yet?
Much is to remember,
Much to forget;
Be thou of comfort!
How should the token
Silence their wail?"
And, with eyes tear-clouded,
He gazed through the luminous,
Star-inwrought, beautiful,
Folds of the Veil.
II.
EARTH THE MOTHER .
Beautiful, beautiful, she lay below,
The mighty Mother of humanity,
Turning her sightless eyeballs to the glow
Of light she could not see,
Feeling the happy warmth, and breathing slow
As if her thoughts were shining tranquilly.
Beautiful, beautiful the Mother lay,
Crownid with silver spray,
The greenness gathering hushfully around
The peace of her great heart, while on her breast
The wayward Waters, with a weeping sound,
Were sobbing into rest.
For all day long her face shone merrily,
And at its smile the waves leapt mad and free:
But at the darkening of the Veil, she drew
The wild things to herself, and husht their cries.
Then, stiller, dumber, search'd the deepening Blue
With passionate blind eyes;
And went the old life over in her thought,
Dreamily praying as her memory wrought
The dimly guessed at, never utter'd tale,
While, over her dreaming,
Deepen'd the luminous,
Star-inwrought, beautiful,
Folds of the wondrous Veil.
For more than any of her children of clay
The beautiful Mother knows —
She is so old!
Ye would go wild to hearken, if this day
Her dumb lips should unclose,
And the tale be told:
Such unfathomable things,
Such mystic vanishings,
She knoweth about God — she is so old.
For oft, in the beginning, long ago,
Without a Veil looked down the Face ye know,
And Earth, an infant happy-eyed and bright,
Look'd smiling up, and gladden'd in its sight.
But later, when the Man-Flower from her womb
Burst into brightening bloom,
In her glad eyes a golden dust was blown
Out of the Void, and she was blind as stone.
And since that day
She hath not seen, nor spoken, — lest her say
Should be a sorrow and fear to mortal race,
And doth not know the Lord hath hid away,
But turneth up blind orbs — to feel the Face.
III.
CHILDREN OF EARTH .
So dumbly, blindly,
So cheerly, sweetly,
The beautiful Mother
Of mortals smiled;
Her children marvell'd
And looked upon her —
Her patient features
Were bright and mild;
And on her eyeballs
Night and day,
A sweet light glimmer'd
From far away.
Her children gather'd
With sobs and cries,
To see the sweetness
Of sightless eyes;
But though she held them
So dear, so dear,
She could not answer,
She could not hear.
She felt them flutter
Around her knee,
She felt their weeping,
Yet knew not wherefore —
She could not see.
" O Mother! Mother
Of mortal race!
Is there a Father?
Is there a Face?"
She felt their sorrow
Against her cheek, —
She could not hearken,
She could not speak;
With thin lips fluttering,
With blind eyes tearful,
And features pale,
She clasp'd her children,
And looked in silence
Upon the Veil.
Her hair grew silvern,
The swift days fled,
Her lap was heavy
With children dead;
To her heart she held them,
But could not warm them —
The life within them
Was gone like dew.
Whiter, stiller,
The Mother grew.
The World grew hoary,
The World was weary,
The children cried at
The empty air:
" Father of mortals!"
The children murmured,
" Father! Father!
Art Thou there?"
Then the Master answer'd
From the thunder-cloud:
" I am God the Maker!
I am God the Master!
I am God the Father!"
He cried aloud.
Further, the Master
Made sign on sign —
Footprints of his spirits,
Voices divine;
His breath was a water,
His cry was a wind.
But the people heard not,
The people saw not, —
Earth and her children
Were deaf and blind.
" Call the great philosophers!
Call them all hither, —
The good, the wise!"
Their robes were snowy,
Their hearts were holy,
They had cold still eyes.
To the mountain-summits
Wearily they wander'd,
Reaching the desolate
Regions of snow,
Looming there lonely,
They searched the Veil wonderful
With tubes fire-fashion'd
In caverns below ...
God withdrew backward,
And darker, dimmer,
Deepen'd the day:
O'er the philosophers
Looming there lonely
Night gather'd gray.
Then the wise men gazing
Saw the lights above them
Thicken and thicken,
And all went pale —
Ah! the lamps numberless,
The mystical jewels of God,
The luminous, wonderful,
Beautiful lights of the Veil!
Alas for the Wise Men!
The snows of the mountain
Drifted about them,
And the wind cried round them,
As the lights of wonder
Multiplied!
The breath of the mountain
Froze them into stillness, —
They sighed and died.
Still in the desolate
Heights overhead,
Stand their shapes frozen,
Frozen and dead.
But a weary few,
Weary and dull and cold,
Crept faintly down again,
Looking very old;
And when the people
Gather'd around them,
The heart went sickly
At their dull blank stare —
" O Wise Men answer!
Is there a Father?
Is there a beautiful
Face up there?"
The Wise Men answer'd and said:
" Bury us deep when dead —
We have travelled a weary road,
We have seen no more than ye.
" Twere better not to be —
There is no God!"
And the people, hearkening,
Saw the Veil above them,
And the darkness deepen'd,
And the Lights gleamed pale.
Ah! the lamps numberless,
The mystical jewels of God,
The luminous, wonderful,
Beautiful Lights of the Veil!
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