To The Merchants Of Bought Dreams
I buy no more from merchants of bought dreams,
For I have greater memories than these bring
Back from their cloudy-footed wandering
In the unpopulous air; this magic seems
Indeed a key unlocking crystal doors
That whiten on the unopening mountain-side,
But I can set the gates of treasure wide.
Beyond the last land where the last sea roars,
I have a kingdom under my command
More than the kingdom of these fantasies;
The shadow of the world darkens my eyes,
And I see clear in the shadow; on my hand
I wear the little ring which, waked to fire,
Calls up the lower powers made serviceable:
And earth and time and space and heaven and hell
Blossom to be the flower of my desire.
I have come out of the bewildering mists,
For I have learned a more excelling art;
The world is a pulsation of my heart,
In me the beauty of the world exists,
what is this that like a torrent streams
In widening waves of living light that pierce
The dark of the transfigured universe?
I buy no more from merchants of bought dreams!
Poems by Arthur Symons
