XII
SOME starlit garden grey with dew,Some chamber flushed with wine and fire,What matters where, so I and youAre worthy our desire?
Behind, a past that scolds and jeersFor ungirt loins and lamps unlit;In front, the unmanageable years,The trap upon the Pit;
Think on the shame of dreams for deeds,The scandal of unnatural strife,The slur upon immortal needs,The treason done to life:
Arise! no more a living lie,And with me quicken and controlSome memory that shall magnifyThe universal Soul.