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A fragrance wandered in a coloured haze As if the scent and hue of all sweet flowers Had mingled to copy heaven's atmosphere. Appealing to the soul and not the eye Beauty lived there at home in her own house, There all was beautiful by its own right And needed not the splendour of a robe. All objects were like bodies of the Gods, A spirit symbol environing a soul, For world and self were one reality. Immersed in voiceless internatal trance The beings that once wore forms on earth sat there In shining chambers of spiritual sleep. Passed were the pillar-posts of birth and death, Passed was their little scene of symbol deeds, Passed were the heavens and hells of their long road; They had returned into the world's deep soul. All now was gathered into pregnant rest: Person and nature suffered a slumber change. In trance they gathered back their bygone selves, In a background memory's foreseeing muse Prophetic of new personality Arranged the map of their coming destiny's course: Heirs of their past, their future's discoverers, Electors of their own self-chosen lot, They waited for the adventure of new life. A Person persistent through the lapse of worlds, Although the same for ever in many shapes By the outward mind unrecognisable, Assuming names unknown in unknown climes Imprints through Time upon the earth's worn page A growing figure of its secret self, And learns by experience what the spirit knew, Till it can see its truth alive and God. Once more they must face the problem-game of birth, 
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