From out the dark of sleep I rose, on the
wings of desire :
“Give me the joy of sight,” I cried,”O Master of Hidden Fire!”

And a Voice said : Wait
Till you pass the Gate.

“Give me the joy of sight,” I cried, “O Mas-
ter of Hidden Fire !
By the flame in the heart of the soul, grant
my desire ! ”

And a Voice said : Wait
Till you pass the Gate.

I shook the dark with the tremulous beat of
my wings of desire:
“Give me but once the thing I ask, O Master
of Hidden Fire ! ”

And a Voice said: irait!
You have reached the Gate.

I rose from flame to flame on pinions of desire:
And I heard the voice of the Master of Hidden Fire:
Behold the Flaming Gate,
Where Sight doth wait!

Like a wandering star I fell through the deeps of desire,
And back through the portals of sleep the
Master of Hidden Fire
Thundered: Await
The opening of the Gate!

But now I pray, now I pray, with passionate desire :
“Blind me, O blind me. Master of Hidden
Fire,
I supplicate,
Ope not the Gate.”

Fiona Macleod (William Sharp), The Secret Gate