Lift Up Our Eyes To You? No,

We Don't Have To Know,only To Be:let Go The Jumble Of Worn Words,reason And Vanity.

The Quivering Of Psyche's Butterflies.

Take What The Old-church Found In Mithra's Tomb, Candle And Script And Bell, Take What The New-church Spat Upon And Broke And Shattered.

In My Garden The Winds Have Beaten The Ripe Lilies; In My Garden, The Salt Has Wilted The First Flakes Of Young Narcissus.

The Elixir Of Life, The Philosopher's Stone Is Yours If You Surrender Sterile Logic, Trivial Reason.