372. The Mystic Rose

I’ WOMAN, am that wonder-breathing rose

That blossoms in the garden of the King.

In all the world there is no lovelier thing,

And the learned stars no secret can disclose

Deeper than mine—that almost no one knows.

The perfume of my petals in the spring

Is inspiration to all bards that sing

Of love, the spirit’s lyric unrepose.

Under my veil is hid the mystery

Of unaccomplished aeons, and my breath

The Master-Lover’s life replenisheth.

The mortal garment that is worn by me

The loom of Time renews continually;

And when I die—the universe knows death.