Part 13 (2/2)

And land that beats with a pulse!

And valleys that draw close in love!

And strange ways where I fall into oblivion of uttermost living!-- Also she who is the other has strange-mounded b.r.e.a.s.t.s and strange sheer slopes, and white levels.

Sightless and strong oblivion in utter life takes possession of me!

The unknown, strong current of life supreme drowns me and sweeps me away and holds me down to the sources of mystery, in the depths, extinguishes there my risen resurrected life and kindles it further at the core of utter mystery.

GREATHAM

_ELYSIUM_

I HAVE found a place of loneliness Lonelier than Lyonesse Lovelier than Paradise;

Full of sweet stillness That no noise can transgress Never a lamp distress.

The full moon sank in state.

I saw her stand and wait For her watchers to shut the gate.

Then I found myself in a wonderland All of shadow and of bland Silence hard to understand.

I waited therefore; then I knew The presence of the flowers that grew Noiseless, their wonder noiseless blew.

And flas.h.i.+ng kingfishers that flew In sightless beauty, and the few Shadows the pa.s.sing wild-beast threw.

And Eve approaching over the ground Unheard and subtle, never a sound To let me know that I was found.

Invisible the hands of Eve Upon me travelling to reeve Me from the matrix, to relieve

Me from the rest! Ah terribly Between the body of life and me Her hands slid in and set me free.

Ah, with a fearful, strange detection She found the source of my subjection To the All, and severed the connection.

Delivered helpless and amazed From the womb of the All, I am waiting, dazed For memory to be erased.

Then I shall know the Elysium That lies outside the monstrous womb Of time from out of which I come.

_MANIFESTO_

I

A WOMAN has given me strength and affluence.

Admitted!

All the rocking wheat of Canada, ripening now, has not so much of strength as the body of one woman sweet in ear, nor so much to give though it feed nations.

Hunger is the very Satan.

The fear of hunger is Moloch, Belial, the horrible G.o.d.

It is a fearful thing to be dominated by the fear of hunger.

Not bread alone, not the belly nor the thirsty throat.

I have never yet been smitten through the belly, with the lack of bread, no, nor even milk and honey.

The fear of the want of these things seems to be quite left out of me.

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