The Seer by George William Russell
OH, if my spirit may foretell Or earlier impart, It is because I always dwell With morning in my heart.
I feel the keen embrace of light Ere dawning on the view It sprays the chilly fold of night With iridescent dew.
The robe of dust around it cast Hides not the earth below, Its heart of ruby flame, the vast Mysterious gloom and glow.
Something beneath yon coward gaze Betrays the royal line; Its lust and hate, but errant rays, Are at their root divine.
I hail the light of elder years Behind the niggard mould, The fiery kings, the seraph seers, As in the age of gold.
And all about and through the gloom Breaths from the golden clime Are wafted like a sweet perfume From some most ancient time.
|