THE CAULDRON

By Victor B. Neuburg

Published in the Theosophical Review

London, England

February 1909

(page 549)

THE CAULDRON

To Ethel Archer

I was born when a witch

Spread her withered hands over a blaze,

With a big hazel-switch I

With notches for days,

With notches for days.

And slimy and rich

Her ugly voice prays:

By God! I was there with the witch!

What matter to me

If the sun be at war with the sea?

Will they drench me or burn?

I was born in the heart of an urn

When the gold was all fled;

And they thought I was dead

Before birth, but I sped

Forth, forth from the fire

And lo! with desire

I escaped, and I roam

At will from my home.

They call me, and lo!

Why should I go?

They feed me with gold;

They are withered and old,

For I suck and I suck,

And they give me good luck.

Lo! I am one with the air,

For air is my blood and red fire is my hair,

And the wind is my lair.

And they draw me with thought,

For of air am I wrought.

They call me, and then

I flee among men,

And madness and rust

And the music of dust

I give them, and they,

With the fury of trust,

Feed me with flame of desire and bright lust!

And I conquer the day,

And I float, and I float, and I float far away.