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Dazed with mysteries of woe and error,

          The soul is too outworn for wondering.

      IV

        He stood alone within the spacious square

          Declaiming from the central grassy mound,

        With head uncovered and with streaming hair,

          As if large multitudes were gathered round:

        A stalwart shape, the gestures full of might,

        The glances burning with unnatural light:—

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: All was black,

        In heaven no single star, on earth no track;

        A brooding hush without a stir or note,

        The air so thick it clotted in my throat;

        And thus for hours; then some enormous things

        Swooped past with savage cries and clanking wings:

          But I strode on austere;

          No hope could have no fear.

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: Eyes of fire

        Glared at me throbbing with a starved desire;

        The hoarse and heavy and carnivorous breath

        Was hot upon me from deep jaws of death;

        Sharp claws, swift talons, fleshless fingers cold

        Plucked at me from the bushes, tried to hold:

          But I strode on austere;

          No hope could have no fear.

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: Lo you, there,

        That hillock burning with a brazen glare;

        Those myriad dusky flames with points a-glow

        Which writhed and hissed and darted to and fro;

        A Sabbath of the Serpents, heaped pell-mell

        For Devil's roll-call and some fete of Hell:

          Yet I strode on austere;

          No hope could have no fear.

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: Meteors ran

        And crossed their javelins on the black sky-span;

        The zenith opened to a gulf of flame,

        The dreadful thunderbolts jarred earth's fixed frame;

        The ground all heaved in waves of fire that surged

        And weltered round me sole there unsubmerged:

          Yet I strode on austere;

          No hope could have no fear.

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: Air once more,

        And I was close upon a wild sea-shore;

        Enormous cliffs arose on either hand,

        The deep tide thundered up a league-broad strand;

        White foambelts seethed there, wan spray swept and flew;

        The sky broke, moon and stars and clouds and blue:

          Yet I strode on austere;

          No hope could have no fear.

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: On the left

        The sun arose and crowned a broad crag-cleft;

        There stopped and burned out black, except a rim,

        A bleeding eyeless socket, red and dim;

        Whereon the moon fell suddenly south-west,

        And stood above the right-hand cliffs at rest:

          Yet I strode on austere;

          No hope could have no fear.

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: From the right

        A shape came slowly with a ruddy light;

        A woman with a red lamp in her hand,

        Bareheaded and barefooted on that strand;

        O desolation moving with such grace!

        O anguish with such beauty in thy face!

          I fell as on my bier,

          Hope travailed with such fear.

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: I was twain,

        Two selves distinct that cannot join again;

        One stood apart and knew but could not stir,

        And watched the other stark in swoon and her;

        And she came on, and never turned aside,

        Between such sun and moon and roaring tide:

          And as she came more near

          My soul grew mad with fear.

        As I came through the desert thus it was,

        As I came through the desert: Hell is mild

        And piteous matched with that accursed wild;

        A large black sign was on her breast that bowed,

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      1

      Though the Garden of thy Life be wholly waste, the sweet flowers withered, the fruit-trees barren, over its wall hang ever the rich dark clusters of the Vine of Death, within easy reach of thy hand, which may pluck of them when it will.

      2

      Life divided by that persistent three = LXX / 333 = .210.

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