268 Shadowings 



but wondrous only because our mortal sight then 

 pierces beyond the surface of the present into 

 profundities of myriads of years, pierces be 

 yond the mask of life into the enormous night 

 of death. For a moment we are made aware of 

 a beauty and a mystery and a depth unutterable : 

 then the Veil falls again forever. 



The splendor of the eyes that we worship 

 belongs to them only as brightness to the morn 

 ing-star. It is a reflex from beyond the shadow 

 of the Now, a ghost-light of vanished suns. 

 Unknowingly within that maiden- gaze we meet 

 the gaze of eyes more countless than the hosts 

 of heaven, eyes otherwhere passed into dark 

 ness and dust. 



Thus, and only thus, the depth of that gaze is 

 the depth of the Sea of Death and Birth, and 

 its mystery is the World-Soul's vision, watching 

 us out of the silent vast of the Abyss of Being. 



Thus, and only thus, do truth and illusion 

 mingle in the magic of eyes, the spectral past 

 suffusing with charm ineffable the apparition of 

 the present ; and the sudden splendor in the 

 joul of the Seer is but a flash, one soundless 

 sheet -lightning of the Infinite Memory. 



