Frederick George Scott



On the Threshold

Throw wide thy gates, O Ageless Mystery,
Prone on thy threshold and outworn am I,
Baffled by lonely winds and heartless sky
               And restless seas
               Never at ease;
I seek the ultimate truth
               Not found in Youth.

Remove those bars ’gainst which I press my face;
Unfold that vision which the eyes of space
Gaze at continually, as the star-clouds race

               Across the infinite
               Dark paths of light.

Attune my ear to catch the silent song
Of myriad-teeming life, pulsing along
               From living soul to soul

               Seeking some baffling goal.

Lead me beyond the garnerings of death
Who is the universe’s vital breath,
               And wrecks all forms
               With tides and storms,

Till I can touch the mighty moulding hand
On whose great palm star-systems lie like sand.

Break down all barriers which my thought confine,
               Till I behold at last,
               Out of the vast,

               Chaotic order shine.

Then shall I grasp, unvolumed and sublime,
The eternal poem in the heart of time,
Its mighty rhythm, its stupendous rhyme—
The epic pathos of the infinite Will

               Supreme and still. [Page 69]