No More Learning

_First Semichorus. _
Through the flats of Hades where the souls assemble
He will guide the Death-steed calm between their ranks,
While, like beaten dogs, they a little moan and tremble
To see the darkness curdle from the horse's glittering flanks.
Through the flats of Hades where the dreary shade is,
Up the steep of heaven will the Tamer guide the steed,--
Up the spheric circles, circle above circle,
We who count the ages shall count the tolling tread--
Every hoof-fall striking a blinder blanker sparkle
From the stony orbs, which shall show as they were dead.

_Second Semichorus. _
All the way the Death-steed with tolling hoofs shall travel,
Ashen-grey the planets shall be motionless as stones,
Loosely shall the systems eject their parts coaeval,
Stagnant in the spaces shall float the pallid moons:
Suns that touch their apogees, reeling from their level,
Shall run back on their axles, in wild low broken tunes.

_Chorus. _
Up against the arches of the crystal ceiling,
From the horse's nostrils shall steam the blurting breath:
Up between the angels pale with silent feeling
Will the Tamer calmly lead the horse of Death.

_Semichorus. _
Cleaving all that silence, cleaving all that glory,
Will the Tamer lead him straightway to the Throne:
"Look out, O Jehovah, to this I bring before Thee,
With a hand nail-pierced, I who am thy Son. "
Then the Eye Divinest, from the Deepest, flaming,
On the mystic courser shall look out in fire:
Blind the beast shall stagger where It overcame him,
Meek as lamb at pasture, bloodless in desire.
Down the beast shall shiver,--slain amid the taming,--
And, by Life essential, the phantasm Death expire.

_Chorus. _
Listen, man, through life and death,
Through the dust and through the breath,
Listen down the heart of things!
Ye shall hear our mystic wings
Murmurous with loving.

_A Voice from below.
_ Gabriel, thou Gabriel!

_A Voice from above. _ What wouldst _thou_ with me?

_First Voice. _ I heard thy voice sound in the angels' song,
And I would give thee question.

_Second Voice. _ Question me!

_First Voice. _ Why have I called thrice to my Morning Star
And had no answer? All the stars are out,
And answer in their places. Only in vain
I cast my voice against the outer rays
Of _my_ Star shut in light behind the sun.
No more reply than from a breaking string,
Breaking when touched. Or is she _not_ my star?
Where _is_ my Star--my Star? Have ye cast down
Her glory like my glory? Has she waxed
Mortal, like Adam?