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A SEPTENNIAL
Published in the International New York, New York, U.S.A. (page 376)
I. Seven times has Saturn swung his scythe; Seven sheaves stand in the field of Time, And every sheaf’s as bright and blithe As the sharp shifts of our sublime Father the Sun. I leap so lithe For love today, My love, I may Not tell the tithe.
II. “But these were seven stormy years!” “Lean years were these, as Pharaoh’s kine!” All shapes of Life that mortal fears Passed shrieking. We distilled to wine The vintages of blood and tears. We tore away The cloak of gray— The sun uprears!
III. We know today what once we guessed, Our love no dream of idle youth; A world-egg, with the stars for nest, Is this arch-testament of truth. Laylah, beloved, to my breast! Our period Is fixed in God— Eternal rest! |