Mirage Of The Desert

Well, there's the brazier set by the temple door:     Blue flames run over the coals and flicker through.     There are cool spaces of sky between white clouds -     But what are flames and spaces but eyes of blue?             *        *        *        *        *     And there's the harp on which great fingers play     Of gods who touch the wires, dreaming infinite things;     And there's a soul that wanders out when called     By a voice afar from the answering strings.             *        *        *        *        *     And there's the wish of the deep fulfillment of tears,     Till the vision, the mad music are wept away.     One cannot have them and live, but if one die     It might be better than living - who can say?             *        *        *        *        *     Why do we thirst for urns beyond urns who know     How sweet they are, yet bitter, not enough?     Eternity will quench your thirst, O soul -     But never the Desert's spectre, cup of love!             *        *        *        *        *