Explore "The Manifestation in the Temple" by Robert Graves on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On the High Feast Day in that reverent space / Between the Sacrifice and the word of Grace, / I, come to town with a merry-making throng / To pay my tithes and join in the season's song, / Closing my eyes, there prayed -- and was hurried far / Beyond what ages I know not, or what star, / To a land of thought remote from the breastplate glint / And the white bull's blood that flows from the knife of flint, / Then, in this movement, being not I but part / In the fellowship of the universal heart, / I sucked a strength from the primal fount of strength, / I thought and worked omnipotence. At length / Hit in my high flight by some sorry thought / Back to the sweat of the soil-bound I was caught / And asked in pique what enemy had worked this, / What folly or anger thrust against my bliss? / Then I grew aware of the savour of sandal-wood / With noise of a distant fluting, and one who stood / Nudging my elbow breathed "Oh, miracle! See! " / The folk gape wonder, urge tumultuously, / They fling them down on their faces every one, / Some joyfully weep, others for anguish moan. / Lo, the tall gilt image of God at the altar niche / Wavers and stirs, we see his raiment twitch.
Now he stands and signs benediction with his rod. / The courtyard quakes, the fountains gush with blood. / The whistling scurry and throb of spirit wings / Distresses man and child. Now a bird-voice sings, / And a loud throat bellows, that every creature hears, / A sign to himself he must lay aside his fears. / It babbles an antique tongue, and threatening, pleads / Prompt sacrifice and a care for priestly needs, / Wholeness of heart, the putting away of wrath, / A generous measure for wine, for oil, for cloth, / A holding fast to the law that the Stones ordain, / And the rites of the Temple watch that ye maintain / Lest fire and ashes down from the mountain rain! / With expectance of goodly harvest and rain in Spring / To such as perform the will of the Jealous King. / To his priestly servants hearken! / The syllables die.