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Poem	Out of the seething cauldron of my woes, Where sweets and salt and bitterness I flung; Where charmed music gathered from my tongue, And where I chained strange archipelagoes Of fallen stars; where fiery passion flows A curious bitumen; where among The glowing medley moved the tune unsung Of perfect love: thence grew the Mystic Rose. Its myriad petals of divided light; Its leaves of the most radiant emerald; Its heart of fire like rubies. At the sight I lifted up my heart to God and called: How shall I pluck this dream of my desire? And lo! there shaped itself the Cross of Fire!
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