At the head she stands of birth and toil and fate,
In their slow round the cycles turn to her call;

Alone her hands can change Time's dragon base.


Hers is the mystery the Night conceals;

The spirit's alchemist energy is hers;

She is the golden bridge, the wonderful fire.


The luminous heart of the Unknown is she,

A power of silence in the depths of God;

She is the Force, the inevitable Word,

The magnet of our difficult ascent,

The Sun from which we kindle all our suns,

The Light that leans from the unrealised Vasts,

The joy that beckons from the impossible,

The Might of all that never yet came down.


All Nature dumbly calls to her alone

To heal with her feet the aching throb of life

And break the seals on the dim soul of man

And kindle her fire in the closed heart of things.


All here shall be one day her sweetness' home,

All contraries prepare her harmony;


Towards her our knowledge climbs, our passion gropes;

In her miraculous rapture we shall dwell,
Her clasp shall turn to ecstasy our pain.
Our self shall be one self with all through her.

Ver todos los episodios