But she, stooping nearer the shifting hills Spoke again. “Look there! See them! There in the oat field with the horses, See them there! bowed by their passions Crushed down, that had been raised as a roof beam! The weight of the sky is upon them Under which all roof beams crumble. There is none but the single roof beam: There is no love bears against the great firefly! At this I looked up at the sun Then shouted again with all the might I had. But my voice was a seed in the wind. Then she, the old one, laughing Seized me and whirling about bore back To the city, upward, still laughing Until the great towers stood above the marshland Wheeling beneath: the little creeks, the mallows That I picked as a boy, the Hackensack So quiet that seemed so broad formerly: The crawling trains, the cedar swamp on the one side-- All so old, so familiar--so new now To my marvelling eyes as we passed Invisible. SOOTHSAY Eight days went by, eight days Comforted by no nights, until finally: “Would you behold yourself old, beloved?” I was pierced, yet I consented gladly For I knew it could not be otherwise. And she--“Behold yourself old! Sustained in strength, wielding might in gript surges! Not bodying the sun in weak leaps But holding way over rockish men With fern free fingers on their little crags, Their hollows, the new Atlas, to bear them For pride and for mockery! Behold Yourself old! winding with slow might-- A vine among oaks--to the thin tops: Leaving the leafless leaved, Bearing purple clusters! Behold Yourself old! birds are behind you. You are the wind coming that stills birds, Shakes the leaves in booming polyphony-- Slow, winning high way amid the knocking Of boughs, evenly crescendo, The din and bellow of the male wind! Leap then from forest into foam! Lash about from low into high flames Tipping sound, the female chorus-- Linking all lions, all twitterings To make them nothing! Behold yourself old!” As I made to answer she continued, A little wistfully yet in a voice clear cut: “Good is my over lip and evil My underlip to you henceforth: For I have taken your soul between my two hands And this shall be as it is spoken.” ST. JAMES’ GROVE And so it came to that last day When, she leading by the hand, we went out Early in the morning, I heavy of heart For I knew the novitiate was ended The ecstasy was over, the life begun.