Collected Poems - Sri Aurobindo Ashram

Incomplete Poems 53
The phantom like a burning page
Was furrowed with the ploughs of wrath,
And thro’ his wintry orbs white rage
Rolled like the dead sea-froth.
His lance poised slanting like a ray
Of ominous sunlight fell.
Astarte in the milky way
Saw death half-risen from hell:
And soon the cold hooves of his horse
On shivering lilies trod,
Till, yellow anguish borrowing force,
Childe Thaliard cried on God.
The phantom, withering thro’ the bars
Of Being like transitory sound,
Left but the murmur of the stars,
Left but the hush profound.
And now the naked wanton moon
Shed languorous glances on the lake
Whose ripples sobbing from their swoon
Grew golden for her sake:
The amorous stars were faint with love;
Earth’s awning seemed so light
That Hesper like a flying dove
Would tremble into sight.
When Thaliard saw in drooping skies
Large drops of beauty burn,
A white-winged chorus did arise,
The prayers that purely yearn.
But Thaliard saw the curling deep
With foamy moon-tints blaze and break,
Till the slack spirit longed to steep
Rich fancies in the lake.
The penitent chorus of his prayers
Were mingled with voluptuous speech
Of daedal images and airs
Luxurious wrapping each: