I was quick in the flesh, was warm, and the live heart shook my breast: In the market I bought and sold, in the temple I bowed my head, I had swathed me in shows and forms, and was honoured above the rest For the sake of the life I lived; nor did any esteem me dead. But at last, when the hour was ripe--was it sudden-remembered word? Was it sight of a bird that mounted, or sound of a strain that stole? I was ware of a spell that snapped, of an inward strength that stirred, Of a Presence that filled that place; and it shone, and I knew my Soul. And the dream I had called my life was a garment about my feet, For the web of the years was rent with the throe of a yearning strong. With a sweep as of winds in heaven, with a rush as of flames that meet, The Flesh and the Spirit clasped; and I cried, “Was I dead so long?” I had glimpse of the Secret, flashed through the symbol obscure and mean, And I felt as a fire what erst I repeated with lips of clay; And I knew for the things eternal the things eye hath not seen; Yea, the heavens and the earth shall pass; but they never shall pass away. And the miracle on me wrought, in the streets I would straight make known: “When this marvel of mine is heard, without cavil shall men receive Any legend of haloed saint, starting up through the sealèd stone!” So I spake in the trodden ways; but behold, there would none believe! THE GLORIOUS COMPANY “Faces, faces, faces of the streaming marching surge, Streaming on the weary road, toward the awful steep, Whence your glow and glory, as ye set to that sharp verge, Faces lit as sunlit stars, shining as ye sweep? “Whence this wondrous radiance that ye somehow catch and cast, Faces rapt, that one discerns mid the dusky press Herding in dull wonder, gathering fearful to the Vast? Surely all is dark before, night of nothingness!” _Lo, the Light!_ (they answer) _O the pure, the pulsing Light, Beating like a heart of life, like a heart of love, Soaring, searching, filling all the breadth and depth and height, Welling, whelming with its peace worlds below, above!_ “O my soul, how art thou to that living Splendour blind, Sick with thy desire to see even as these men see!-- Yet to look upon them is to know that God hath shined: Faces lit as sunlit stars, be all my light to me!” THE ARROWMAKER