Oh Symbols, Oh Mystery
In youth I dreamt, yea, that I saw two rising mountains
And to the South a cave whose walls were dewy wet
As if by the spray of some great fountain
And yet I confess I know not what these dreams mean
I knew only that I must explore and climb upon them
See what sighs would rise up from them
And when I’d penetrate to their depths
From somewhere North I would hear quickening breaths
And yet I do confess I know not what these dreams could mean
If some psychologist could look upon these visions’ doors
Study their shape, their locks and simply hand me the key
Then, then could this throbbing and longing cease within me
But until that day I can only sit in agony and repeat
Oh Symbols, Oh Mystery!