RODIN

IV

ILLUSION

Published in the Weekly Critical Review

Paris, France

11 June 1903

(page 3)

Icarus cries; “ My love is robed in light

And splendour of the summits of the sun.

Wing, O my soul, thy plumed caparison

Through ninety million miles of space beyond sight!

Utmost imagination’s eagle-flight

Out-soar! “But he, by his own force undone,

His peacock pinions molten one by one,

Falls to black earth through the impassive night.

Lo! from uprushing earth arises love

Ardent and secret, scented with the night,

Amorous, ready. Sing the awakening bliss

That catches him, from the inane above

Hurled—nay, drawn down! What uttermost delight

Dawns in that death! Icarus and Gaia kiss.