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"...From thy rose-red lips my name Floweth; and then, as in a swoon, With dinning sound my ears are rife, My tremulous tongue faltereth, I lose my colour, I lose my breath, I drink the cup of a costly death, Brimm'd with delirious draughts of warmest life!"
Sun and moon are lost in the ocean of His splendour. Therefore is He named that Infinite in whose radiance Sun and Moon are darkened. Before whose Divine Power even that Buddha made flesh in India himself faltereth in ascribing praise to the Majesty of His true glory. Far beyond human numbering are the wise in the high assemblage of the Infinite One.
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