I Was Among Multitudes Of Children Dancing At The Foot Of A Mountain. A Breeze Blew Out Of The East And Swept Them As Leaves, Driving Some Up The Slopes. . . . All Was Changed. Here Were Flying Lights, And Mystic Moons, And Dream-Music. A Cloud Fell Upon Us. When It Lifted All Was Changed. I Was Now Amid Multitudes Who Were Wrangling. Then A Figure In Shimmering Gold, And One With A Trumpet, And One With A Sceptre Stood Before Me. They Mocked Me And Danced A Rigadoon And Vanished. . . . All Was Changed Again. Out Of A Bower Of Poppies A Woman Bared Her Breasts And Lifted Her Open Mouth To Mine. I Kissed Her. The Taste Of Her Lips Was Like Salt. She Left Blood On My Lips. I Fell Exhausted. I Arose And Ascended Higher, But A Mist As From An Iceberg Clouded My Steps. I Was Cold And In Pain. Then The Sun Streamed On Me Again, And I Saw The Mists Below Me Hiding All Below Them. And I, Bent Over My Staff, Knew Myself Silhouetted Against The Snow. And Above Me Was The Soundless Air, Pierced By A Cone Of Ice, Over Which Hung A Solitary Star! A Shudder Of Ecstasy, A Shudder Of Fear Ran Through Me. But I Could Not Return To The Slopes - Nay, I Wished Not To Return. For The Spent Waves Of The Symphony Of Freedom Lapped The Ethereal Cliffs About Me. Therefore I Climbed To The Pinnacle. I Flung Away My Staff. I Touched That Star With My Outstretched Hand. I Vanished Utterly. For The Mountain Delivers To Infinite Truth Whosoever Touches The Star.