The Crucible

Because thou camest, Love, to break The strong mould of this world in two, And of the senseless fragments take And in thy mighty music make A world more wondrous and more true, Now my soul hath taken wings, Newly bathed in light intense, And purging off the film of sense, Of its native glory sings. And that inward vision, turning Pomps of earth to vapour brief, Sees as in a furnace burning Time, a swiftly shrivelled leaf: Sees the fortressed city fall To a mound of nameless wall, Shrining temple, columned porch, Life--bought gems, and royal gold, Shake like ashes from a torch; Palaces, world--envied thrones, Crumble down to dust as old And idle as Behemoth's bones On a frozen mountain--top. I see the very mountains drop, Wasting with their weight of stones Swifter than a torrent slides, Melted like the crimson cloud Vanishing about their sides When the morn has burst his shroud. Love, Love, because thou didst destroy So much, and madest so much vain, I know what lives and shall remain, I see amid Time's gorgeous wane The dawn and promise of my joy. O lift me thither, lift me higher! I am not save in this desire, Lost and living, fire in fire.